


Aftermath

by JayWrites



Series: Love, Hurt, & Misery [4]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: Cutesy shit, Depression, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Smut, Suicide, drama drama and more drama, sexy fun times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-16 10:20:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 109,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2266092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayWrites/pseuds/JayWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Almost a month as passed since the apartment fire. The police are opening an investigation in to the cause of it and Cassie plans a meeting with Daya in one last effort to save any remnants of their friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning Is The End Is The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I might just make this a couple of chapters long (which is why I left the chapter number open) but I'm not sure yet. It depends on my mood. But I have plenty more in store for Tom and Cassie. Anyway, I hope yall enjoy this.

Cassie sat in the restaurant fidgeting. She was currently biting her lip and twirling one thumb over the other. Both Tom and Charlie noticed this and glanced at one another. Tom placed his hand over Cassie’s; they were cold but gradually warmed under his touch. “Cassie,” he said gently while bringing her knuckles to his lips and kissing them, “are you sure you want to do this?” The trio had tried (and often failed) to reach Daya for the last week and a half. As per protocol, the police had formally opened an investigation into the fire. Although Charlie had told her to let him tell them the truth about the origin of the fire, Cassie wouldn’t let him before she talked to Daya first. In spite of everything that had happened in the last month, Cassie was still concerned about her. In the last few days, she and Charlie had gotten into a serious fight over said concern.

_“What do you want me to do, Charlie,” she had asked him; her hands folded across her chest. She didn’t raise her voice; instead, it remained low as if she was a reprimanded child addressing a disappointed parent._

_“I want you to let me tell the cops the truth and just be done with her.” Unlike Cassie, Charlie spoke barely below a shout. He paced back and forth across the bedroom._

_“I…I can’t do that, Charlie…”_

_“Why? That bitch literally burned your life and you’re still standing by her?” Charlie rubbed the bridge of his nose. He looked at her. She sat on the edge of the bed, arms folded, her eyes looking away from him. He took a deep breath before slowly continuing. “Just…tell me why, Cas.”_

_“Because…,” she rubbed her neck her eyes searching for words. “I can’t just erase twenty years of friendship in three weeks. No matter how badly I should.”_

_Charlie exhaled. Cassie was too forgiving—almost to a fault. “Cassie…You know damn well if the tables were turned, she’d call you out in a heartbeat.” Cassie wanted to believe it wasn’t true but current evidence proved her otherwise._

_“I know you’re probably right it’s just…” she let out a frustrated groan and audibly cursed herself. “A part of me just wants to say ‘fuck her’! She made her bed and I should let her sleep in it but another part…wants to throw her one last lifeline, you know? For old time’s sake…”_

_“Yeah, I know. Just…Be careful that she doesn’t pull you in while you play Captain Save-a-hoe.”_

\---------

Tom looked at his watch. He sighed heavily at the time. It was after one thirty; Daya was supposed to meet them at twelve. “Cassie, sweetheart, I don’t think she’s coming.”

“Just…just give her another minute.”

Charlie reclined in his seat and folded his arms across his chest. “Shit…we already gave her an extra hour and a half. But sure…let’s waste more of our afternoon. It’s not like any of us has things to do.” Cassie cut her eyes at his sarcasm.

“I told you, you didn’t have to stay, Charlie. Neither of you really. I got this.”

Tom watched as she began fidgeting again; this time her knee bounced rapidly up and down. “Are you sure?”

She gave a weak smile and nodded. “Go,” she said softly. “I don’t want her to come and see you guys and think we’re gonna gang up on her or some shit. I’m fine. Ya’ll can leave.” Cassie bit her lip and looked at her hands. Tom gently placed his hand on her knee; calming her.

“Are you sure,” he asked again. Cassie lowered her eyes and gently shook her head. “Then we’re staying.” Cassie opened her mouth to protest (she knew they both had better things to do besides babysit her) but Tom put his hand up to silence her. He signaled to the waitress.

“What else can I get you guys this afternoon?” They had gotten hungry in their wait and ordered lunch. “Or should I just bring the check?”

“You can bring us all refills and bring me the check, please. That is unless you guys want to order something else.” Cassie and Charlie answered in the negative. “Okay. Refills and the check please.”

“Coming right up,” the waitress replied smiling broadly before bouncing away.

Tom pulled out his cell. “I’m texting Luke to tell him I’m not going to be able to attend my two-thirty meeting.”

Cassie swore to herself again. “See…that’s not what I wanted. Your lives shouldn’t have to be put on pause for my drama. Go to your meeting, Tom. And Charlie don’t you have to work this evening? Go home and rest.”

“Cas, you know damn well we’re not leaving you here!” Charlie didn’t try to hide the agitation in his voice. Yes, part of his afternoon was ruined (and to say he was upset about it would be an understatement and a lie) but if he went back to the apartment he would only end up pacing the floor worrying himself sick about her.

Cassie tensed her jaw. She wanted to protest again but knew it would be useless to do so. They weren’t going to leave no matter how often she asked them to. She started to fidget again—agitation and guilt built inside her. Tom’s gentle caresses did nothing to soothe her. They sat in silence for a few minutes before the waitress returned to their table and filled their drinks. She smiled at Tom while filling his glass. “Now are you sure I can’t get you _anything_ else,” she asked flirtatiously. (She had been trying and failing to get his attention all afternoon).

Tom smiled politely and before he could respectfully decline he heard Charlie say, “Son of a bitch!” The surprise comment caused Tom to jerk his head in Charlie’s direction. Charlie’s focus was aimed at the entrance of the restaurant. Tom turned his attention to where Charlie was looking. Daya strutted towards their table wearing a sunflower dress and a large hat atop her head that would have been better suited for the Kentucky Derby rather than a Tuesday afternoon in Los Angeles. Walking close behind her was her cousin Tariq and his very pregnant girlfriend, Shayla. Charlie leaned back in his chair and tersely said, “Well…It’s about goddamn time she showed up.”

\---------

“Hello, Cassie,” Daya said removing her hat and brushing her hair back; her tone was anything but friendly. She threw the hat on the table and sat down in the remaining free chair and glared at Cassie. Cassie returned the look. A smirk slowly grew across Daya’s face. “I see you brought your back up.”

“As did you,” Cassie quipped without hesitation. Both Charlie and Tom rose to offer their chairs to Tariq’s girlfriend. She smiled nervously and took the seat closest to her, Charlie’s. Tom offered his seat to Tariq who took it with a soft, almost inaudible, “thank you.” Tom whispered to the waitress to bring them two extra chairs for him and Charlie. She nodded and quickly walked away—she wasn’t sure what was happening but from the looks the two women exchanged she knew that she wanted to be as far away from whatever events might take place. It didn’t take long for two of the other waiters to bring Tom and Charlie chairs.

Daya continued, paying no attention to the commotion, “Well…I figured I would need some help in my corner to protect me from the Cassie Defense Squad.”

“ _You_ would need protection?” Cassie put her head in her hand and shook it. “Oh my god, Daya…Are we really gonna do this shit?”

Daya reclined in her seat and folded her arms across her chest. “I’m game for whatever you are, sweetie.”

Cassie laughed lightly. “I am such a stupid, stupid shit. I can’t believe I spent the last couple of days _defending_ your petty ass!” Daya shrugged her shoulders. “Right. You don’t care do you?” Daya’s face remained impassive. “Then why the hell am I here? Why the hell did I waste my time? Because you’re trash, Daya.” Daya rose at the insult.

“The fuck did you just call me, Cassie?”

“I said, ‘you’re trash,’” Cassie said rising to meet Daya’s face. “And you know it.” Daya opened her mouth to speak but Cassie cut her off. “You’ve been trash since the day I met you. Except I was too young to notice it then. But now I see you. I _see_ you, D. And the stink coming off you.”

“Whoa,” Charlie said softly. He looked at Tom who had his mouth open.

Daya turned to her cousin. “You’re gonna let her talk to me like that?”

“Yeah, he is,” Cassie said. She turned to him. “Because you know the truth too, don’t you, Tariq? She’s been staying with you this whole time hasn’t she? Lemme guess, she hasn’t done _one_ thing to help you or Shay. Am I right or am I right?” Tariq answered with an exasperated sigh.

“The fuck, Tariq,” Daya yelled causing the other patrons to turn their attention to their table. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“I am!” He looked at the other customers. He cleared his throat before lowering his voice. “Daya, there are people around…Please…”

Daya waved her hands around. “I don’t give a fuck about these people! Let ‘em look! All I give a fuck about is you not having my back!”

Tariq clenched his jaw and looked at his girlfriend. Her face wore a worried expression and she gently shook her head left to right while caressing her round stomach. _Don’t let her get to you_ , he told himself. The owners might not call the police on Daya raising her voice but a black man raising his in defense? He took a deep breath. “You know I love you, Dy-Dy,” he used his childhood nickname hoping it would appease her temper, “I didn’t mind you staying with us at first but…But I’m about to be a father in a couple of weeks. You can’t keep sleeping in the baby’s room.” Daya cut him a look. For the past month she had been sleeping on an air mattress in her cousin’s small apartment and she didn’t want Cassie or Charlie to know that. “I came here to help you sort out all of this shit so you can have a place to stay, Dy-Dy.” His tone was sincere but Daya’s bruised pride wouldn’t allow her to be calmed.

“Then fuck you too, Tariq! See this is the shit I’m talking about! Nobody has my back but me!”

“He didn’t say that, Daya,” Cassie interjected.

“Oh, fuck off, Cassie! I guess it’s not enough that you have your rich, white dick and your gay sidekick on your side but now you gotta have what’s mine as well?”

“Hey! Don’t you _dare_ drag them into this!”

“ _You_ dragged them into this when you brought their lily-white asses here! What’s the matter, Cas? Can’t you fight your own battles?”

Cassie took a deep breath. “You are really something, you know that?” Cassie licked her lips before leaning over the table bringing her face closer to Daya’s. “You just _love_ to call people out on their bullshit—regardless if it’s real or imagined. But if anyone were to a call you on yours…it’s a quick ‘fuck you’ and you’re out.” Daya scoffed and rolled her eyes but Cassie wouldn’t be deterred. “Yeah, you might not wanna hear it, D, but that’s who you are. That’s who you’ve _always_ been. You only have need of someone as long as they’re kissing your ass…otherwise fuck ‘em, right? You’re selfish and you’re spoiled…and I’m embarrassed it took me this long to realize it.”

“Okay, Cas,” Daya gave a derisive laugh. “You wanna try to go in on me? Fine! Two can play that game, ma.”

“Oh my god, D! I’m not…”

“Yes. You are. That’s why you’re coming at me with this shit. That’s because deep down _you’ve_ always known that you’re nothing but mediocre at best. I’ve always been the pretty one. The popular one…until you came here and they got all up in your head with this bullshit. But we both know the truth. You’ll always be average. No matter how many awards they throw at you.” She turned her focus to Tom and couldn’t help but to add, “Or how many basic white boys’ dicks you suck.” Tom didn’t hide his displeasure at her comment and Daya threw her head back in laughter. “Look at your face, boy! I was just bullshitting you but I guess I was right. Good job, Cas, finding someone to support your failing ass _and_ clean out those cobwebs for you.”

Tom rose from his seat. Tariq rose from his in response but Tom paid him no mind. “Now, wait a minute, Daya…”

Cassie brought her hand to Tom’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Tom. She’s just being petty. As usual. Go ‘head, Daya, mock me...But you know damn well without me _you_ wouldn’t even be here. If it wasn’t for my script and Charlie’s directing, you would still be back in Shreveport, Louisiana working at that shitty ass club. Sure, you got plenty of talent—unlike you I’m not afraid to admit it—but if it wasn’t for _us_ you’d still be back home auditioning for Chitlin’ Circuit plays and praying for your big break. You. Should. Be _thanking_ me.” The smile fell from Daya’s face but Cassie got no joy from it. She shook her head and said, “I didn’t ask you to come here to attack you, Daya. I wanted to give you a heads up about the police investigating the apartment fire. You know the one where you burned over five years of my work? Oh, wait…but that was _after_ you already destroyed nearly everything else I own including…” she bit her lip and swallowed hard before continuing, “including my mother’s necklace.”

Tariq, who until this point had been standing mouth agape at Cassie’s statements, asked, “She did what?”

“She burned our apartment down and destroyed her mother’s necklace,” Charlie chimed in.

Tariq’s mouth fell open again. He had also grown up with Cassie and Daya and knew how much that necklace meant to her. “Dy-Dy…please tell me you didn’t.”

“Yeah, Dy-Dy,” Cassie mocked. Her face was neutral of all expression. “God knows what lies you’ve already told him. Try the truth. It’ll be great practice for your trial.”

Fear started to creep into Daya at the word “trial.” If there was any smugness still left in her, it fell away when she stuttered out, “Cas…I-I-I was upset! I didn’t mean…”

“Bullshit! I was upset too! But I didn’t make it my mission to fuck up your life! I keep the only thing I have left of my mother’s in a tiny Ziploc bag, in a pocket of my duffel bag in the back of my boyfriend’s closet! Because of you! But you want sympathy? I gave it to you when I asked you here. I wanted to throw you a lifeline and you threw it back in my face.”

Daya looked around at the other patrons. They were still the main entertainment of the afternoon. Daya found herself mentally recanting her claim about not caring what they thought. In a low, soft voice she said, “Cassie…This could ruin my career.”

Cassie gave a scoffing laugh. “And it’s _still_ about you. Who gives a fuck that Charlie nearly died trying to put out the fire that _you_ started. Never mind that you could’ve also seriously injured the other people living in that complex or worse. And never fucking mind that you cost Charlie’s uncle a shit ton of money in damages to fix our apartment. No, let’s worry about your career…” She rolled her eyes before turning to Charlie. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. I’m so fucking sorry that I actually fought with you about saving her.”

“It’s okay, doll,” Charlie said patting her hand. He knew this meeting would not end well. His heart ached for Cassie but he also knew that some lessons were best learned the hard way.

Cassie looked at Daya. “I’m standing by Charlie. Whatever he decides to tell the cops…he’s got my full support.” Cassie grabbed her purse. “Let’s just go, ya’ll,” she said to Charlie and Tom before turning.

“Wait, Cassie! I…” Daya grabbed Cassie’s elbow. Cassie gave her a look before jerking herself free.

“Ain’t shit left to be said, D. You said all you had to the moment you sat your ass down.” Cassie, Charlie and Tom walked away without looking back. If they had, they would have seen Daya drop to her seat. They would have seen her look to her cousin and, in shallow breaths, repeatedly murmur, “Oh shit…Oh shit…”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...I'm not even gonna lie to ya'll...This is just some smut to tie ya'll over until I actually move on with some actual plot. Enjoy (hopefully)

Charlie was laughing so hard that he began to hiccup. “‘I see you, D, and the stink comin’ off you!” He threw his head back and laughed louder. They were driving back to the apartment after Cassie’s meeting with Daya. “I think that was my favorite part. You called that bitch trash! The look on her face! God…I should’ve taken out my cell phone. I want that face framed forever and ever…”

Cassie bit back a laugh. “You’re horrible,” she said softly.

“No, he is not,” Tom chimed in also laughing; his eyes remaining focused on the road in front of him. “I think my favorite part,” he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, “was when you said slow ‘You. Should. Be _thanking_ me.” Oh my god…I thought you were going to strangle her or something.”

“Right,” Charlie agreed. “And the look on your face when you said it. Girl…”

“Ya’ll act like I just went straight gangster on a bitch,” Cassie said.

“Well, for a moment there I thought you were gonna start quoting lines from _The Godfather_ or something. ‘Don’t tell me you’re innocent because it insults my intelligence…’”

“Charlie…stop…,” Cassie said but she buried her head in her hands to hide her laughter.

Tom couldn’t help but to add, in a perfect imitation, “‘Look how they massacred my boy!’” Cassie could fight it no longer. She threw her head back in a fit of laughter.

“Do another one,” Charlie said gleefully from the back seat.

Tom didn’t hesitate to oblige him. “Let me think…‘You never take sides against the family. Ever,” he said mimicking Al Pacino. They all laughed at the impression. “I swear that’s what I heard when you told her she should thank you. I heard Michael Corleone’s voice. ‘You. Should. Be _thanking_ me,’” he repeated this time again mimicking Pacino.

Charlie fell over in the backseat. He held his side. His eyes began to water as his laughter turned into a tittering sound. “Just…fucking perfect.”

\--------

When they arrived back at the apartment, Tom scooped Cassie in his arms and spun her around. She squealed at his actions. He put her down, took her face in his hands and kissed her gently. “I am so proud of you.”

Cassie blushed under his touch. “Tom…”

“No. I mean it. It’s hard getting rid of toxic elements…but you did it. In the most spectacular of ways, I might add.” Cassie giggled. Her face was still in his hands. He looked as if he wanted to say something else.

“What,” Cassie asked lifting an eyebrow and gently grabbing one of his wrists with her hand.

He opened his mouth to speak but exhaled instead. He dropped his hands around her waist and pulled her in close. “Nothing…but I, uh, I have to admit that it was kind of hot the way you talked to Daya today.”

Cassie smirked and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Was it, now?”

“Ooh. Yes…I wanted to grab you and bend you right over that table.”          

“Really?” She bit her lip in excitement at the thought of Tom ravishing her.

Tom lowered his eyes and cupped her ass. He squeezed her cheeks while whispering in her ear, “Really.” That one word—said in that low tone while he held her like that—made her go weak in his arms. He kissed her again. This time slow and passionate. He kept one hand on her ass and cupped her face with the other. He moved from her lips and softly kissed her cheek and then her neck. He nibbled gently at it causing her to moan. He traced his tongue back up her neck and across her jaw, before dipping it in her mouth. She moaned again at the feeling of his tongue swirling around her own. Cassie could feel his erection poking her in the stomach. She ran her hands down the front of his shirt; feeling the outline of his lean physique. He grabbed her blouse and began to unbutton it.

“Hmm…,” Cassie managed to pull away from him. “Wait, wait. Not here. Charlie could come back any minute.” (Charlie had gone straight to the laundry when he arrived). Tom’s jaw clenched. He wanted nothing more than to bend her over the back of the couch and fuck her hard. Instead he lifted her (she giggled and wrapped her legs around his waist) and carried her to the bedroom. He threw her on the bed and kissed her again. He once again reached for the buttons on her blouse. This time he anxiously pulled at them and when one wouldn’t open fast enough he popped it loose. Cassie gasped and glared at him.

“Oh shit,” he laughed. “I’ll buy you a new one.” She made a face and he continued to laugh while pulling the rest of the shirt off her shoulders and tossing it across the floor. He took a moment to soak her in. She looked absolutely delicious lying under him. Her dark brown eyes low and seductive. Her full lips slightly parted and begging to be kissed. Again he looked as if he wanted to say something to her. “Cassie…I…” The words caught in his throat.

Cassie furrowed her brow. She caressed his face. “Baby, what’s wrong? You look…distressed.”

Tom again shook the thoughts away. “It’s nothing.” Cassie didn’t believe him and opened her mouth to speak but Tom planted a kiss on her lips and stopped her cold. He pulled away and traced his fingers down the straps of her light blue bra. “How about we take this off, hmm?” As soon as he pulled down the strap, he heard Charlie’s voice.

“That bitch from 2C thinks I won’t curse her out for hogging the machine. Why the fuck does she think she can—Oh my god!” He covered his eyes when he entered the bedroom. “Oh my god, you guys! I should have known ya’ll were in here doing the do.”

Tom rolled his eyes and buried his face in Cassie’s chest. “We were about to,” he mumbled against Cassie’s skin.

With his eyes still covered, Charlie replied, “I just came in here to get a pair of shoes from the closet.”

“Well, you better hurry up, mate. I don’t think I can keep my hands off of her much longer.” He bit Cassie’s neck and she involuntarily let out a moan. She quickly covered her mouth and Tom smiled at her.

“Oh god,” Charlie groaned. “I think I might’ve threw up a little in my mouth.”

“I don’t care where you throw up as long as you do it outside this room, Charles.” Cassie smacked Tom on his shoulder and gave him a look that told him he was being rude. Charlie took no offense (he would probably say worse than that if he was in the same position). Instead he grabbed his shoes and made for the exit. “Close the door tight behind you, mate,” Tom called out to him before looking back down at Cassie. “Things are going to get really loud in here.” Cassie let out a loud laugh at the comment before succumbing to a moan at Tom, once again, nibbling at her neck.

\--------

The moment Charlie closed the door they tore at each other’s clothes. Once Tom had quickly unhooked Cassie’s bra, he cupped her bare breasts into his hands. He licked and sucked one fervently while thumbing the other. After giving the other breast the same treatment, he traced his tongue up her neck before kissing her hard and hungry on the mouth. Cassie moaned against his mouth while unbuckling his belt. She unzipped his pants and palmed his erect cock through his underwear. His breath hitched when she did so. He worked at the button on her pants; cursing himself when it didn’t give to him freely. When he finally did get it undone he yanked them off her body; her light blue thong came after. He took a moment to take in her naked form. No matter how many times he saw her in the nude he couldn’t get over how truly beautiful she was. Cassie’s breathing slowed as she watched his blue eyes dance with desire at her body. Although it didn’t show due to her dark brown skin tone, she blushed under his gaze.

Tom licked his lips. He didn’t know where to begin. There were so many things he wanted to do to her: he wanted to lick her slowly from head to toe; he wanted to fuck her pussy into the mattress; he wanted to take her from behind while his nails dug into her flesh. He wanted to fuck her on every single piece of furniture he owned. He wanted to ravish her wholly until their bodies gave out in sheer exhaustion. He figured he’d start off simple by getting undressed. Tom began pulling his shirt off over his head while Cassie pulled his pants off his hips. Cassie didn’t hesitate to lick the tip of his cock the moment she pulled his boxers down. (It actually surprised Tom since he was still fussing with that goddamn shirt). She stroked his shaft while bobbing her head up and down his cock—taking in more of his length with each movement—while she rubbed her clit with her free hand.

Tom grabbed the back of her head and rocked his hips making his cock go deeper into her throat and causing her eyes to water. He threw his head back enjoying the feel of her mouth around his cock. “Oh fuck…Cassie…,” he moaned out as he continued to thrust into her throat. He was getting close. “I want to come in your throat,” he said looking down at her. It wasn’t so much as a command but, rather, a request. If she said no he would pull out and aim for either her chest (again with her permission) or the bed; however, she nodded her head yes. Tom smiled and stroked into her mouth a few more times before releasing his seed into the back of her throat. He pulled out of her mouth slowly. A couple of drops of come fell on her lips and breast. She eagerly wiped it up and licked it off her fingers. She grabbed his cock and licked the last drop off the tip of it as well.

“Waste not; want not,” she said smiling. Tom leaned over and kissed her on the lips. She loved that he wasn’t afraid to taste his own come. She even found it sexy.

Tom continued to kiss her along her jaw line before breathing low and commanding in her ear, “Lie on your stomach.” She gleefully obeyed. He took another moment to admire her before crawling beside her on the bed. He grabbed the back of her thighs and parted them slightly. He planted a soft kiss on her cheeks before caressing them. Cassie shook her head and smiled to herself. He sure did love her ass. A shocked expression quickly replaced her smile when Tom, without hesitation, slipped two of his fingers into the back of her pussy.

“Oh…mmmm….,” she moaned as he stroked his long fingers into her while he continued to rub her ass. He pumped his fingers into her slow and steady. She bit her lips and clutched the bed covers while grinding into his hand. His fingers felt so fucking good but she desperately wanted his cock inside her. “Oh god, Thomas. Fuck me.” Tom smiled devilishly at her request. He wanted nothing more than to fuck her good and hard but not before he finished toying with her first. He began pumping his fingers into her faster. He licked his lips as his hand steadily became soaked with her juices. He began growing hard again at the sight. Cassie whimpered before begging, “Please, Tom. Fuck me now!” He laughed. He loved watching her squirm.

“Do you want to come, darling?” Cassie nodded her head furiously. “I can’t hear you Cassie. Do you want to come?”

“Y-yes…” He laughed again.

“Don’t come until my cock is inside you, understand?” Cassie stuttered out another “yes.” Tom continued to stroke his fingers into her. He bent down to place another kiss on her behind before rearing his hand back and slapping her on the ass causing the meat on the cheek to bounce. He caressed her cheek before hitting her again harder; this time Cassie moaned loudly at the hit. He smiled at the sound of her moaning. He knew that she loved to be spanked and that, if he continued, she wouldn’t last long.

Cassie’s bottom lip began to quiver. “F-fuck…Please, Tom no more.” Although she couldn’t see him, she guessed Tom probably had a mischievous grin plastered across his face and, just like he knew that she loved a good spanking, she knew that he loved to torture her. If she begged for his cock, he wouldn’t give it to her; if she begged for him to let her come from his fingers; he would not give her that release either. She tried to put her hand over her ass but he swatted it away.

“Cassie, don’t move. Or else,” he said sternly; still pumping his fingers into her. She ignored him and tried to cover her rear again. He tsked. He warned her. He grabbed her wrists with both hands and pinned them behind her back. He managed to secure them with one hand before again slapping her on the ass. She begged for mercy but he wouldn’t hear it. He rubbed her cheek to soothe it before letting his hand come back down on it again. He repeated this (hit; caress; hit; caress) on both cheeks. Cassie yelped initially each time his hand met her flesh before the sound melded into a moan; and she tensed up after each caress in anticipation of another hit. He slapped her ass again (again she called out at the pain before succumbing to the pleasure) and, after he rubbed out the pain, he surprised her by slipping his fingers back inside her and pumping slowly.

“Please, Tom…Fuck me or let me come,” she pleaded.

Tom could do this all day. Finger fucking her teasingly slow until she was a blubbering mess but he couldn’t torture himself any longer. He wanted to be inside her as badly (if not more so) as she wanted him in her. Without hesitation, Tom slammed into her. He grabbed her hips and stroked in to her hard and fast. He leaned over—his warm breath in her ear threatened to make her come quickly—and asked, “Is this what you wanted, Cassie?”

“Mmm-hmm…”

“Say it! Say you want this cock!”

“I-I want….mmmmm….y-your….fuck….cock!” The sound of his lower abdomen slapping against her round ass filled the room.

“Y-you…shit…like when I fuck you hard like this?”

“I l-love it,” she panted. And she did. She loved the feeling of his weight against her body. The feeling of his sweat dropping onto her back and side of her face. She loved the way he panted and moaned in her ear. The way his nails dug into her flesh as he drove himself deeper within her. The way he said her name (either in an authoritative tone or as soft as a whisper). She grasped the edge of the bed. She opened her mouth to call out his name but it came out in nonsensical sounds of pleasure. That familiar heat began to build in her stomach.

“You…ah! Fuck!” He ran his tongue across the nape of her neck; tasting her perspiration and the salty savor of her skin. He buried his face in the back of her neck. God, did she feel good. So wet. So warm. And the way her pussy snugly wrapped around his cock…He could die right now, with her writhing and panting underneath him, and he wouldn’t care. And not just the metaphorical little deaths that come after. No. A literal, physical, eternal death. And he still would not care. Not one bit. Not as long as he spent his last moments here with her. Although, he would like to kiss her one last time before he went. Or feel her meld her tiny frame into his body. Or hear her coo his name in that southern accent of hers. 

“Cassie, I…” for the third time that day the words refused to come out. It didn’t matter anyway. She was lost in ecstasy as she came—the force of it pushing him out of her.

Without saying a word, Tom gently rolled her onto her back and entered her again. Cassie whimpered as he stroked into her slow and steady. “Tom, please…,” she begged. He cut her off with a quiet “shhh…” He took the time to place tender kisses across her face and neck. He grabbed her thigh and began to grind into her. She wrapped one arm around his neck and the other curled under his shoulder. She moaned his name in his ear.

He drove himself into her harder. “Yes…Keep saying my name like that.”

“Thomas…” His name fell from her lips like supplications and he yearned to answer that prayer with every stroke he drove into her; with every touch from either his lips, tongue or hands that he placed on her body.

He cupped her face with one hand. He kissed her—wet and lovingly—before sticking his tongue in her mouth and swirling it around hers. She moaned at his taste while running her hands across his shoulders and down his back. “Say it again,” he said in her ear causing her to shudder from his low timbre.

“T-Thomas…,” she panted. “I-I’m gonna come…”

Tom reached down and rubbed her clit. “Come with me, Cassie.” She ran her nails down his back as she came. He gritted his teeth at the mixture of the pain of her actions and at the intensity of his orgasm. Cassie collapsed in exhaustion. Tom rolled off of her and pulled her close to him. He kissed her forehead. “Wow…that was intense wasn’t it, baby,” he asked closing his eyes.

“Yeah. It was,” Cassie answered. She had a feeling something had changed in their relationship but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. She knew it had something to do with the strange way he looked at her earlier; and with the way he talked to her a few moments ago—it was more gentle than he had ever been—and while she appreciated it she had to admit that it threw her for a loop. But she chose not to dwell on it. Instead she rested her head on her chest, closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to USS_Ichabbie for helping me edit. And to her and JazzyTee for helping me sort out my plotline. So much shit is gonna happen.

Cassie lay in bed staring at the ceiling while running her fingers through Tom's hair. He was lying in her chest; faintly snoring. God she envied him. She hadn't been getting much sleep for the last few weeks or so. She was still thinking about Daya. Well not exactly her—she finally kicked Daya out of her life and hadn't regretted it for one moment—but rather, she thought about Daya's parents, The Henderson's. Cassie had known them since she first moved from Thibodaux to Shreveport. They were like surrogate parents to her and she knew that the ensuing scandal of the investigation would kill them. She had wanted to call them numerous times to either check on them or explain the situation, but every time she picked up the phone her nerves got the best of her.

Where would she even begin? Cassie figured she could tell them that her and Daya’s friendship had become a festering plague on her life since the inception of it (or, at the very least, in the last decade or so). Yet, knowing Mrs. Henderson, she would likely remind Cassie of the numerous sleepovers they had; or how often she caught them whispering and giggling over some boy; or the many times they fought _for_ each other instead of _with_ each other. A smile grew across Cassie’s face while reminiscing about how she and Daya would braid each other’s hair and talk about their shared crush on Aaron Reynolds (the cutest boy in school from sixth grade to senior year of high school—bless that boy’s genes) and stay up until their little bodies fell out in exhaustion at their sleepovers.

But that was when their friendship was still good. When Daya’s spoiled, bratty behavior would only peak its head out in minor ways before becoming a full blown character flaw. Before jealousy would aggravate these qualities and infect any decent part left in her. Before these traits would coalesce into the Daya that Cassie knew now. The Daya that absolutely hated her. The Daya that had burned her life.

The smile dropped from Cassie’s face and her head began to throb.

Cassie rubbed her temple and glanced over at the clock sitting on the side table. It read 4:28 a.m. in bright red letters that were nearly blinding in the dark room. She sighed aloud. She would have to get up in a couple of hours for her 8 a.m. meeting with her agent, George Weiss. _George, George, George_. He was another problem that was keeping her awake. He continued to send her roles that she hated. "Please, George, no more mammy shit," she had asked him. "Can't you find me something, anything else?" He shook his head and told her that the roles he sent her were all that were available.

A part of Cassie knew that he was right. Roles for black actresses were scarce and, even worse, roles that _should_ be played by black actors (or actors of color, period) were steadily going to white ones. (Just yesterday she read in Variety that Paramount was remaking Cleopatra and were only searching for white actresses).

Another part of her truly believed that George wasn't exactly interested in helping further her career. When she, Daya and Charlie first moved to Los Angeles they hired him, after weeks of schmoozing on George’s part, to represent them. Daya was able to find a few commercials here and there but it took months for him to get her television and movie offers for even small roles. Cassie had the same trouble except she also had no offers on any of the specs or scripts she wrote (and she had a suspicious feeling that “dear old Georgey” never spoke to anyone about them). Charlie, it seemed, was the only one making any waves. Studios were clamoring to at least meet with the young, buzz-worthy director; but Charlie was picky—choosing only to work on projects he felt would have an impact on something other than the box office receipts. Yet, with each offer he turned down, there seemed to be at least two more knocking at his door.

Cassie didn’t blame Charlie for either George’s lack of interest in her nor for Hollywood’s hiring practices but she also couldn’t pretend as if she wasn’t growing increasingly upset about the whole situation. Charlie was talented. He only had two films under his belt—both indies—and one viewing of either film would turn the biggest skeptic into a believer. But she couldn’t overlook the fact that Charlie possessed certain _qualities_ that worked in his favor. She had generated as much buzz as he had (hell, she had the Oscar to prove it) but Hollywood was only interested in extending a hand to white men; thereby, leaving anyone who didn’t fit into this narrow margin to drown.

The throbbing in Cassie’s head worsened.

Tom stirring at her chest momentarily brought her from her thoughts. He mumbled her name while running his thumb over her left breast. He rocked his hips against her thigh and she felt his erection poke at her. She shook her head. "At least one of us is getting a good night's sleep," she murmured. She kissed his forehead before trying to free herself from his vice-like grip. Normally, she loved being smothered by him—it reminded her of the many years she shared a bed with her cousins Desiree and Odessa back home (she in the middle of them; their limbs sprawled across her small torso as she nuzzled her little face into either a random arm or leg)—but she didn’t want to spend the next couple of hours on her back, fighting her thoughts until either of their alarms woke him.

Cassie lightly pinched Tom’s elbow causing him to jerk his arm. She took the opportunity to quickly slip out from under him. She tip toed to the closet and grabbed her computer bag from inside before exiting the bedroom and gently shutting the door behind her. She walked to Tom’s office and placed her laptop on the desk next to his. She turned on the small desk lamp before pulling out a yellow legal pad from her computer bag. On it were various ideas that she had written down whenever the urge hit her to do so.

Lately, though, it seemed that this urge had hit her often and randomly—sometimes when she was exercising or while cooking; a few times at work; once even during sex. She plugged in her computer and began typing up the ideas. She worked for hours occasionally taking a break from typing to crack her knuckles or pace the office repeating scenarios aloud before writing them down. Before she knew it, exhaustion overtook her and she fell asleep on her writing pad; her pen still in her hand.

———————

The blaring of Tom’s alarm woke him. He reached over to the table beside him and hit “snooze” on his cell before pulling the covers back over his shoulder. He turned on his side and, with his eyes still closed, felt for Cassie. When he didn’t feel the warmth of her tiny frame he groggily opened an eye.

“Cas,” he called; his voice hoarse with sleep. There was no answer. “Cassie,” he asked again through a yawn. Still no answer. He arose from the bed, stretched his arms out, and gave another loud roar of a yawn. Whenever he did this, Cassie would turn over in bed, mumble about him being a “damn bear” before pulling the covers over her head. He didn’t realize how much he appreciated the exchange until he didn’t hear her voice.

He stumbled into the hall and knocked on the bathroom door. “Cassie?” No response. He turned and noticed a faint light coming from under his office door. He opened the door and saw her lying on top of her folded arms; a tiny dribble of drool hanging from the side of her face and softly snoring. He smiled at the image.

“Cassie,” he asked again gently while nudging her. She mumbled inaudibly but didn’t wake. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s get you in the bed.” He lifted her with a groan—she was much heavier asleep—and took her to the bedroom. He delicately placed her on the bed and covered her before returning to his office.

 _What was she doing in here?_ he thought. He noticed her laptop next to his. He closed the lid and placed it back in its bag. He picked up the legal pad, and out of curiosity, read the contents. There in various inks were character names—some were scratched out with others written over them; parts of conversation that didn’t make much sense (one character asked a question and another appeared to be answering or replying to another conversation all together); and a sundry of words also crossed out or with question marks next to them. Tom smiled before placing the pad in Cassie’s bag next to her computer. She was writing again.

———————

Cassie had slept through her alarm. She only had enough time to brush her teeth and take a quick shower (which was honestly more like running through the sprinklers than an actual shower). She wore a hat so she wouldn’t have to worry about styling her hair. It had taken her twenty minutes to hail a cab and, to make matters worse, she was now stuck in morning traffic. She dialed George’s office and told his secretary the details of her predicament. He told her (via secretary, of course) that he would be in his office until ten thirty and would try to squeeze her in but he was too busy to reschedule.

She didn’t doubt that he was busy but deep down she knew that if she were another client, an A-lister, George would move heaven and earth to meet with her. She didn’t think about it too much. After all, she was planning on firing him.

It would be for the best. She could move on and find some better representation that gave a little bit of a shit about her and he could divert his attention to his more important clients. It was a decision that could have easily been made over the phone but since they were going to have a meeting anyway she might as well kill two birds with one stone. The cab driver honked at the vehicles in front of him. “Move it!”

Cassie anxiously looked out the window at the long line of stopped cars. “How far are we from Weiss Brothers Agency?”

“Ten minutes,” the driver replied eyeing her through the rear view mirror.

Cassie looked at her watch. 9:45. She could walk there. “Is that the same by foot, you think?”

“Give or take. Why?”

Cassie reached in her purse and pulled out thirty dollars. “Keep the change.” She sprang from the cab and took off down the street. “Oops! Excuse me! Sorry,” she called out as she dodged the pedestrians clogging the street. She stopped to take a breath and looked at her watch again. 10:02. She was making good time. Once she got her second wind, she took off down the street again bumping into and apologizing to the surrounding people.

It was a little after 10:10 (either the cab driver was wrong about the distance or Cassie was extremely out of shape) when she finally made it to George’s office. “I-I’m here to see George... Cassie…Greene...” She said between huffs. “I have…An appointment...”

“I’m sorry, Miss Greene, but Mr. Weiss isn’t in right now. He left early for his 11 meeting”.

“Are you fucking kidding me!” All of Cassie’s energy had rushed back to her. “You told me he would be in until 10:30. Its…10:12!”

“I’m sorry, Miss Greene. You can wait until he returns around one or you can reschedule your appointment. How does….” Cassie watched as the secretary typed something on the screen. “…ten a.m. on the eighth sound?”

“Today’s the sixteenth. You mean, I would have to wait two more weeks to talk to this fu—uh, George?”

“Um..longer actually. He’s book all of next month as well.”

“Is he now?” Cassie asked tersely. She guessed that George probably _was_ in his office and had this poor woman wave away anyone he didn’t want to see. Cassie opened her mouth to voice this belief but decided against it. Instead, she threw her head back and groaned. “Do you know if cabs take credit cards?”

“Yes, I think they do. Why?”

Cassie didn’t answer. She turned, walked back toward the elevator and hit the “down” button.

———————

“Yes, Luke. I heard you the first time. Nine a.m. on the twentieth. I won’t miss my flight…again.” Tom ended the call and rolled his eyes. Luke was such a worry wart. They had already talked at great length about his sudden case of tardiness and repeated missing of meetings. Tom had given him a flimsy lie about not getting enough sleep due to his neighbors (imaginary) newborn.

Honestly, what was he supposed to say? That he spent most of his time with Cassie? That he purposely ignored Luke’s calls and e-mails so he could spend an hour or two more with her? Luke would have a fit. Although, it was quite funny, Tom had to admit, when Luke lost his temper. His voice would raise at least five octaves, his face would turn as red as an apple, and Tom would try (and often fail) to suppress a laugh. No. As much as he wanted to rile Luke up for his own amusement, Tom knew it was better to not tell him.

Besides, he wouldn’t understand. Luke was a business man, after all. Constantly reminding Tom that he had to _appear_ available even if he wasn’t. “The fans will love you. You’re handsome. Charming. They’ll want to know you. Want to _be_ with you. And as long as they _think_ they can have you…they’ll keep filling the seats. And isn’t that what you want, Thomas?”

He had wanted it. And he loved every second of it. The constant barrage of women begging to throw themselves at him; wanting to spend just one night with him (or Loki—not that he minded, though; he had no problem telling a willing lover to kneel). Tom smiled at the thought of all the trouble he put Luke through years ago after his fame grew with _Thor_ and _The Avengers_. The continuous cover-ups and signed non-disclosure agreements of fangirls that had the absolute pleasure of meeting him at a party or a restaurant and wanted—no _needed_ —to take him home.

 _You are such a hoe,_ Cassie’s voice rang in his head. _Bet you dicked down every girl from here to London and back again._ She had joked with him about his flirtatious nature and how no girl could stand a chance against him.

He smiled at the memory. He found himself doing that often. Every thought of his somehow leading to her. His pretty little Cassie.

 _Pretty little Cassie._ He often called her that and she’d giggle or kiss him in reply. Oh, her kisses. They were always so tender. He found himself running his finger across the tip of his nose. She loved kissing him there the most. He ran his fingers down to his lips (the second place she’d kiss him). Then his chest. God, he could almost _feel_ her lips on him.

Tom stretched out on the couch. He continued to run his hands down his body; stopping inches above his belt. Now, he closed his eyes and imagined Cassie’s small hands eagerly unbuckling it. His ever growing erection pressed against her. He could see those dark brown eyes looking up at him; her full bottom lip caught between her teeth in anticipation. Oh, how he wanted to suck on those lips. To wrap his large hands around her round face and pull her close. To whisper her name so low that she swooned under his touch.

He yearned to feel her soft skin against his body. To lick that vanilla scent off of every inch of it. To have that sweet voice of hers coo his name. How he loved that. How he loved…

His chest began to tighten causing him to jerk his eyes open. _…Send her home. Before that poor girl becomes another victim of your pattern_ , a voice rang in his head. This time it was a booming one. The voice of Chris Hemsworth. Tom sprung off the couch and tried to shake the thought away but it wouldn’t budge. _…Send her back home. Break the cycle._

He grabbed his hoodie and stormed out the door. A run would help him clear his mind.

———————

Tom could barely focus on his jog. Neither his heart nor his mind was in it. He would rather be in bed with Cassie laughing and fucking than out running. That was new. He loved running.

 _Maybe…_ _Maybe you…._ Tom turned up the music on his iPod to drown out the nagging thought that had been plaguing him for the last month.

A thought that would often catch him suddenly and make him look at Cassie—really look at her—and see beyond the next month or so. That made him see years down the line; maybe a few kids and a house in the country. That made his chest pain and constrict. That made him want to run away. Damn. He shook his head and turned his music on max and let Nicki Minaj’s “Super Bass” suffocate the last of the thought.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally much, much longer. But I decided to break the chapter up into two parts. Anyway, enjoy!

Tom was stretched out on the couch with one arm tossed over his head. He yawned while flipping through the television channels. It was almost noon on a Saturday and he had nothing lined for the day—no meetings or auditions—until his monthly card game later that evening. Now he just had to find ways to kill time and the networks weren't giving him any proper distractions. "Why is there never anything on?”

"Turn on the cooking network,” Charlie said popping a chip into his mouth. "I think an _Iron Chef_ rerun might be on."

Tom made a face. “No. We are not watching _Iron Chef_ again. You already have too many episodes of it on the DVR! Speaking of which do you know when you’re going to delete any of them anytime soon?”

Charlie took a sip of his soda. “Tom, I know this is your house so I respect your wishes but if you delete my show…I might have to kill you,” he joked.

Tom gave his signature laugh. “I’m not afraid. Cassie will fight for my honor.”

"Cassie will what now?" She asked walking in from the kitchen with a plate of sandwiches in her hand.

"Defend me if Charles kills me for deleting _Iron Chef_."

She looked at Charlie who gave her a playful wink. She returned it. "Nah, son," she said casually to Tom while setting the plate down between the two men. "That’s between y’all. But I will miss you, boo." She kissed Tom on his forehead then added, "And that sweet ass of yours."

Tom brought his hand to his chest in fake offense. "I’m just a piece of meat to you, aren’t I, Cassie?"

She playfully shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah...pretty much.” He laughed at the comment as she walked towards the bathroom.

"Where are you going?"

She sucked her teeth. “Why? You ain’t my damn daddy. I ain’t gotta tell you shit."

He sprung off the couch so quickly that it surprised her. She tried to run but he grabbed her and pinned her to the wall. “What did you say to me?” He clenched his jaw and Cassie nearly got wet from the image.

"I said…‘You. Ain’t. My damn. Daddy.’" She repeated the words slow while staring at his flexing jaw. She really shouldn’t be riling him up. She didn’t have the time to play with him. Today was wash day which meant she would be spending the next two hours (at least) washing, conditioning and twisting her hair before her shift at the bar later tonight. She had meant to do it on her day off earlier this week but, as usual, she neglected to do so due to fucking around with Tom. Literally. They had spent the majority of the day in bed insatiably devouring one another; only stopping to eat or rest. By the time she remembered to wash her hair, the hour had grown late and she was too exhausted to think about even turning on the faucet.

Yet, in spite of this, she couldn’t resist toying with him. Besides, Tom loved it. He was always ready and willing to play along. “If I was your dad,” he wrapped his arm around the small of her back and pulled her close, “I would punish you for talking to me like that. So disrespectful.”

Cassie wanted to moan at the way he said those last two words. God…The way he talked to her… It wasn't just the velvety accented voice that she loved, but the way his lips carefully formed each of the words. She often found herself lost in watching how he spoke instead of listening to what he was saying.

"Oh yeah?" She continued to goad him while staring at his lips. "What you gonna do about it?" _Damn, Cassie, chill,_ she thought. _You don’t have time for all this._.

Tom licked his lips and opened his mouth to respond but Charlie’s voice cut him off. "Please, for the love of God, take that shit in another room."

Tom cut his eyes in Charlie’s direction and Cassie couldn’t help but to chuckle at his agitation. Truthfully, Tom was better behaved than he normally would be. If they weren’t within view or earshot of Charlie, Tom would not hesitate to grab her, pull down her shorts and eat her out right there in the hallway before fucking her hard against the wall.

Her hands fell to Tom’s belt. She pulled on it causing him to return his focus to her. She nearly swooned when his blue eyes met hers. “Gimme a kiss so I can go wash my hair.” He smiled before leaning over and obliging her with a soft kiss on the lips. When he pulled away, he grabbed her hand and gently pulled her towards the bathroom. “What are you doing?”

“You said you were going to wash your hair, right?” She nodded in reply. “Well, I’m going to help you.”

“Help me?” A devious smile spread across Tom’s face. Cassie didn’t know exactly what he had in mind but she knew that mischievous grin all too well. “Oh, no. No, Tom! You know how long it takes me to do my hair. I’m just gonna wash it in the sink. That’s all.”

Tom ignored her pleas and lifted her onto his shoulder. She continued protesting, of course, as he carried her into the bathroom and placed her on the counter top. She opened her mouth to speak but he caught her words with his lips. He grabbed the bottom of the tank she wore and lifted it over her head. He kissed her again quickly before she could try to speak. He pulled back to remove his own shirt and she surprised herself by helping him. It was those damn kisses. He knew she could never resist them.

It wasn't until he began working on the drawstring of her shorts that she came to her senses. "Tom. I mean it…no. I can't play with you. I have to do a whole bunch of shit to do to my hair."

"I know. It'll be easier with both of us, don't you think?" He turned on the shower before going to the bathroom closet and pulling out a washcloth and two large drying towels. He ran his hand under the water to check for the temperature. He adjusted the knobs before placing his hand under the water again.

"It’s perfect." He continued undressing until he stood before her in his gloriously nude form. Cassie shook her head but didn't say anything as Tom untied and pulled her shorts from her narrow waist. She remained silent as he unhooked and removed her bra and peeled off her boy shorts before opening the shower door. "After you, darling." Cassie made a face and entered the shower. Tom followed suit and shut the door behind him.

The water felt marvelous against her skin. It was the right temperature—not too hot or cold. She let the water fall on her face drenching it and her hair. She turned around under the shower head letting both sides of her body get completely wet before standing back and wiping the water from her eyes. Tom, meanwhile, watched her. He watched as drops of water slide down her back and fell to the crack of her ass. Somehow the water enhanced the appeal of her body.

She looked twice as beautiful with the water glistening off her brown skin. He reached for the washcloth and wet it. He opened her body wash; taking in its vanilla scent before squeezing some onto his towel. He began to wash her back. She closed her eyes at the feeling of his large hands on her soaked body. He continued down her back and over her round ass. He rubbed down her shapely legs before returning back to her shoulders. He turned her and gently washed the soap off her back.

Cassie loved when he bathed her. She reached up as he began washing over and under her arms to run her wet fingertips across his face. He smiled at her touch and continued bathing her. She closed her eyes as he cleaned under her breasts and down the front of her. He grabbed the detachable shower head and gently rinsed the remaining soap off of her. He took great care to let his thumbs run over her nipples just so he could hear her whimper.

He replaced the shower head and rinsed the towel off once more before gently washing between her legs. If any other lover had tried to do that, she would smother her face in embarrassment; but with Tom she found herself closing her eyes and letting him nurture her.

When her body was clean he grabbed her shampoo and squeezed some into his palm before working it into a lather. He gently massaged the shampoo into Cassie’s damp curls taking great care not to get any of the product in her eye. He reached for the conditioner after rinsing out her hair. "Which one?" He asked. There were two bottles hanging in the caddy.

"The black one," she answered wringing out the water from the ends of her hair. She turned the faucet off. "I have to leave it in about fifteen minutes before rinsing it out." Tom nodded that he understood and poured the product into his palm and, just as he did with the shampoo, rubbed it between his hands before massaging it throughout her hair. He turned on the faucet and washed the remaining conditioner off his hands.

"Now we have to find something to occupy us for the next fifteen minutes." He put his finger to his lips. "Hmmmm…whatever can two naked people do for fifteen minutes."

"Tom…no. Please. You just cleaned me."

"Well, then I guess that it's only fair that I get to dirty you up again." He pressed his lips against hers before she could protest. He ran his large hands down her wet body and squeezed her ass. She moaned into his mouth. He then kissed her neck and quickly moved down her chest before stopping right above her pussy.

He slowly lifted one leg and placed it on his shoulder. He rubbed his long fingers against the folds of her pussy before slipping one inside her. She let out a "mmmm" when he did so. For the next fifteen minutes he licked at and sucked her clit while pumping two of his slender fingers inside her. She grabbed onto his wet hair as best she could and ground her hips into his tongue.

She was slightly bent over, his hair balled in her fists, his face pressed against her pussy while his tongue eagerly lapped at her and his fingers furiously pumped in and out of her. Her orgasm came so strongly that she groaned and clawed at the walls with her free hand. Her body shook in quick spurts as the last of her orgasm rolled out of her. Tom lowered her leg and caught her before she could slump over in exhaustion. "I...hate you," she murmured against his chest.

He chuckled and said, "No you don't, darling," before washing the conditioner out of her hair and the come from between her legs.

———————

Charlie watched as Cassie, now dressed in a shirt least two sizes too big for her and a pair of barely visible shorts underneath, sat on the floor between Tom’s long legs (he now wore a tank and a pair of his sweats and Charlie couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t wearing underwear).

Cassie was teaching Tom how to properly moisturize and twist her hair. “Like this,” Tom ask pulling out a strand of hair for her to examine.”

“Hmm…yeah. But make the next one a little bigger, babe.” Tom smiled and took the long tail of Cassie’s comb and parted her hair. He rubbed the moisturizer into her hair and nimbly twisted it. He showed it to her again and Cassie, pleased with its size, turned and kissed him on the lips.

“Ooh. Do I get that for every one I do correctly?”

“Maybe…”

“Maybe?” Tom scooped his arm under her breast and slightly lifted her up to him. He placed kisses on her cheeks causing her to giggle. “I am Loki of Asgard and I get all the kisses I want!” She laughed loudly at the random comment.

“What the hell, Tom?”

He shrugged his shoulder. “I don’t know. This just seems like something Loki would do.” He continued kissing her; making her squeal at his actions.

Charlie smiled at them. They were really cute and it was nice to see Cassie genuinely happy. He couldn’t recall any time in the years that he’d known her, when she was as blissful as she was now. Although he could do without the groping in front of him and the sounds of their nearly constant lovemaking coming through the walls at night while he slept on the couch, he loved watching them fall in love.

Yet, he also often felt like the third wheel. This feeling wasn’t without merit. Charlie couldn’t count the number of times Tom groaned or cut his eyes at his presence whenever he accidentally interrupted them. (Charlie couldn’t blame him. If the tables were turned, both Tom and Cassie would get an earful at the very least.)

Even though Charlie was grateful to Tom for allowing him to stay at his place for the last three months, he knew it was time for him to move out. Besides, his Uncle Benny had a decent sized one bedroom that would be perfect for him back at his apartment complex—Benny even said that he would give Charlie a fair deal on the rent (much fairer than previously).

The only thing to do now was inform Cassie. No doubt, she would be saddened by the news but he hoped that she would come to see that it was for the best; not only for him but also for her and Tom’s burgeoning relationship. He returned his attention to the couple. Tom still had Cassie in his grasp and she was trying to free herself from him.

“More kisses for the true Prince of Asgard!”

Cassie continued to squeal as he playfully pecked against her neck and cheek. She was never going to finish her hair if they carried on like this. She stretched out her arms. “Charlie! Save me! Call the Avengers or something!”

Charlie shook his head. He swore that sometimes they behaved as if they were a couple of kindergartners. But he couldn’t resist joining in the revelry. He leaped from the chair he was sitting in and put his hands on his hips. “Don’t you worry, fair maiden! Superman shall save you!”

“That’s the wrong movie,” Tom called out before bursting in laughter. Charlie shrugged and grabbed Cassie’s hand and freed her from Tom’s embrace. They both ran toward the bedroom. Tom was close behind them; laughing loudly and commanding them to kneel.


	5. Chapter 5

Tom tried not to watch Cassie as she flittered around the apartment—which had now seemed smaller thanks to the added bodies of his friends that had came over for their monthly poker game—but it was incredibly hard to do so. She bounced around from room to room looking for something that she had misplaced. _She's always losing things_ , Tom thought as she stopped in the living room and muttered to herself about the mislaid items. He tried not to acknowledge her presence but the sound of each step she took on the hardwood floor drew his attention to her. And his friend's attention as well. Whenever she entered the room the card game would stop abruptly to watch her. She wore a pair of dark blue skinny jeans that perfectly hugged her round behind. He heard one of his friends gently call on the name of the Lord as her narrow hips twisted (causing her cheeks to rise and fall with each step) across the living room.           

Tom smiled to himself. None of them knew—or would know—how amazing she looked undressed. How every curve on her body seemed to be created solely to entice him. How her humble breasts slightly bounced as she walked. How the meat on her ass would jiggle when hit in just the right spot. They also would never know how soft those plush lips felt on every part of his body or how they felt wrapped around his stiff cock.

They wouldn’t know how soft that dark brown skin was. Or how she would whimper when he traced his tongue across it. They would never know what it felt like to have her nails rake down their backs or chest while in the throes of passion. Or how wet she could get from just a whisper in her ear. And her taste! It seemed as if all other food had begun to pale in the comparison of the bittersweetness that lay between her thighs. (God! How many times had he tried and failed to properly convey the deliciousness of that savor into words!) Or how it felt to be inside her; driving into her until his name fell from her lips either softly or grasping onto the exclamation of her orgasm.

Tom almost pitied them.

He turned back to the game yet all the men (except happily married Chris Hemsworth) continued to watch Cassie move about the apartment. Tom's eyes met Chris' but Chris said nothing. He only narrowed his eyes at Tom while taking a sip of his beer. Even without speaking, though, Tom felt as if Chris had somehow knew about him and Cassie. But how could he?

For the hour that his friends had been at his place, Tom took special care not to be more than friendly towards Cassie. But it was damn hard.  He tried not to let his jealousy show when she invited herself to the game and took the empty chair next to Chris Evans (who was more than happy to have her seated next to him). He attempted to ignore the way she giggled at Chris’ jokes and playfully hit his arm. However, he did tense his jaw so tightly that he was sure he would crack a tooth when he noticed Chris unabashedly eyeing Cassie’s ass when she leaned over the table to grab a handful of Cheetos; and, just when he thought he would blow his cover, Cassie looked at him and winked before returning her attention to the cards in her hand.

That simple action simultaneously quelled his seething anger and incited his arousal. He tried not to let his eyes linger on her, as they were often wont to do, when she arose from the table—having just won almost five hundred dollars—to get dressed for her shift. It took nearly all of his energy to restrain himself from kissing her when she looked over his shoulder at his hand and he caught a whiff of her scent; or from tossing her onto the table and fucking her right there in front of everyone at the feeling of her voice humming in his ear when she playfully whispered to him that he was losing. He should have gotten an award for the level of acting he was doing at the moment not the cold accusatory stare he was receiving from his close friend instead.

“Goddammit.....Tom have you seen my earrings?” Cassie’s voice drew his attention to her; breaking the locked gaze he had been in with Hemsworth. “I thought I placed them on this table,” she was digging through a bowl on the coffee table that usually held their car keys, “but I don't see them.”

“Maybe you left them in your jewelry case in the bedroom.”

“No,” she pouted and Tom resisted the urge to grab her face and ensnare that lip between his own. "I already looked in there.”

“Can’t you just wear another pair?”

"My others are too big. We have regulations and shit about the size jewelry we can wear."

Tom raised a brow. “Regulations? It’s a goddamn pub!”

Cassie lifted her hands in agreement. “That’s what I said! Maybe I did leave them in the bedroom.”

She turned to walk way and, once she was out of earshot one of Tom's friends, Michael said, “Whoo, man! I have never wanted to be a pair of jeans so bad! Did you see how they were fitting her?”

“I saw. I saw.” Chris Evans chimed in still looking towards the direction of the bedroom.

“What I want to know," Dave started, “is…how does she look with them off?”

Tom tried not to let his annoyance show. “David, please. She’s a good friend. Let’s not start with that tonight.”

“Just a friend?” Chris Hemsworth asked before taking a swig of beer.

Tom eyed him. “Yes, Chris.” Chris gave him a look that said he didn't believe him as far as he could throw him. “Guys! I am capable of controlling myself.”

The group burst out in raucous laughter. “No, the fuck you're not, Tom.” Michael said. “Or do we need to remind you of the women who were ‘just a friend’ before you added them to your long list of fuck buddies.”

Tom made a face that showed he was far from amused but Michael was unfazed by it. He laughed again. “You can get pissy with me all you want, Tommy, but you know _damn_ well I'm telling the truth. Please, somebody back me up here.”

“No. We're not doing that shit again.” Tom was in no mood to hear about his long record of ruined friendships.

Michael threw his head back in laughter. “Why you mad, Tom?”

“Fuck you, Mike.” Michael laughed at him again before making a mocking face. “I hate you. All of you.”

“No, what you’re really mad at, Tom, is this,” Dave said while showing his cards. “Straight flush! Ooh! That’s _got_ to have hurt the pretty boy!” He put his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Sucks to be you, huh?” Tom shrugged Dave’s hand off his shoulder.

“Straight flush my ass, Dave!” Chris Evans called out. “You’re a cheating son of a bitch!”

“Don’t trust him,” Michael said while shaking his head. “Do not trust him.”

The men continued to argue until Cassie re-entered the room. “What’s going on here,” she asked adjusting her found earrings.

“Dave is a liar and a cheat,” Chris Evans said angrily eyeing Dave.

Dave put a hand to his chest in fake offense. “I swear I’m a saint!”

Cassie laughed at the arguing men before asking Tom, “Can I take your car to work? Charlie’s still not home and I’m gonna be late if I don’t leave soon.”

Tom nodded his consent before adding, “I just have to get something out first.” He grabbed his keys out of the bowl on the coffee table and headed towards the door.

“Bye, boys. And _you_ ,” she pointed to Dave, “…behave.”

“Oh, yes, ma’am…” Dave replied giving her a sly smile. Cassie and Tom shut the door behind them as they exited the apartment. “I wonder if I’m a really bad boy…would she spank me?”

Evans and Michael laughed at the comment but Hemsworth kept his eyes on the apartment door and took another sip of his beer while mentally reviewing Tom’s earlier behavior.

\---------------

The car made a chirping sound when Cassie hit “unlock” on the keyless entry pad. “What did you need to get out,” she asked turning around to Tom.

“This.” He pushed her against the side of his car and kissed her hard. One hand cupped the side of her face; the other massaged her ass. He pulled away from her leaving her nearly breathless. “I have been waiting to do that for the last hour,” he said against her lips.

“Damn, boy. You cannot kiss me like that before I’m about to go to work.”

“Then don’t go. Stay with me and we’ll fuck the afternoon away.”

Cassie chuckled. “I have to work, Tom.”

“No, you don’t. Working’s overrated.” He trailed his thumb over her bottom lip. “Stay and play with me, Cassie.”

“Ugh…You know I’d love to…but I can’t.” Even though they were currently the only two people in the garage, her voice was barely above a whisper.

Tom kissed her again even more passionately than before. He stuck his tongue in her mouth and she moaned before bringing her arms around his neck. He rolled the tip of his nose over hers when they finally pulled away. “Come on…We can make out in the backseat. My dad totally said I could have the car until ten,” he joked.

Cassie laughed again against his lips. “You need to chill, boy, because I felt a lil’ bit of a poke right then.”

“It’s more than a little and you know it.”

“You are a trip.” She opened the car door. “You better find some way to handle that _situation_ before you go back to your boys.” She kissed him again before entering the car.

“That’s not helping my situation any, Cas,” Tom groaned. She winked before driving away.

\---------------

When Tom returned to his apartment, Evans and Dave were still arguing. “Still at it, hmm?”

“No,” Michael said. “They’re arguing over a new game.”

“Why won’t you guys admit that I won,” Dave asked offensively.

“Because you’re rubbish at this game,” Tom said taking his seat.

“Maybe Lady Luck is on my side tonight.”

“Dave…Do you understand probabilities? And why it’s _literally_ impossible for you to win with _two_ straight flushes back to back!” Chris Evans threw a couple cards at Dave. “You’re a goddamn cheater. Just admit it.”

Dave continued to defend himself against Michael and Evans but to no avail. Dave pushed his chips into the center of the table in frustration. “Fuck all you guys! I’m going home.”

“Oh, come on...Don’t be like that…” Tom said.

“You’re one to talk! You’ve been a buzzkill all night.” Dave arose from the table and put on his jacket that had been hanging on the back of his chair.

“No. Don’t leave. Stay for one more hand,” Evans said sarcastically causing Dave to flip him off before storming out of the apartment.

“He’s a bit of a drama queen, isn’t he?” Tom asked shuffling the cards for his deal.

“Yeah,” Michael agreed. “But he does have a point, though. I mean, you have been really uptight all evening before you left with ol’ girl. And now you’re all smiles.”

“Her name’s ‘Cassie’ and I’m not behaving any differently than I normally would.” He looked at the Chris’ for confirmation. Evans made a face and looked away (indicating that he agreed with Michael). Hemsworth gave him that same knowing stare from earlier but remained mute. Against his better wishes, Tom asked, “What is it, Chris?”

“Are you fucking Cassie?” Hemsworth asked without hesitation.

The other two men’s eyes grew wide at the question. They turned their attention to Tom whose face held a shocked expression. Some part of him thought—no _hoped_ —that Chris wouldn’t ask him _that_ question. “Well, shit…Are you?” Michael asked after a long pause from Tom.

“No,” Tom finally replied. His voice was soft and Chris narrowed his eyes in unbelief. “Why would you say that?”

“You said you went out to the car to get something but, yet, here you are empty-handed. So what did you get instead?”

Chris Evans chuckled and folded his arms across his chest. “Yes, what _did_ you get instead, Thomas?”

“Yes, please,” Michael gleefully chimed in. “Tell us _all_ about what you got.”

“I…needed some papers. They weren’t in the car. I probably left them in Luke’s office.” It was a flimsy lie but Tom hoped it would be enough to satisfy his friends. It wasn’t.

“That’s the best you got, Tom? Really?” Hemsworth shook his head. “Just tell me the truth. I know you want to. It’s all over your face. Are you fucking Cassie?”

“No! Can we get back to the damn game now, please?”

Hemsworth continued to give him that knowing stare and Tom could feel his reserve break under it. “So…You’re honestly, going to pretend that I haven’t been watching you watch her all night?”

“You’re calling _me_ out? Everyone….”

“I’m not concerned about these other bastards, Tom! Answer the goddamn question. Are you or are you not….fucking…Cassie?”

Tom tensed his jaw and stared at his hands before lifting his eyes back up to meet Chris’. He licked his lips before slowly responding, “So what if I am, Chris?”

“Shit! Tom!” Evans exclaimed at the reply.

Michael let out a long whistle. “You old dog, you!” He put his fist up for a bump. Tom soured his face at Michael before looking again at Hemsworth.

Hemsworth leaned back in his chair, folded his arms across his broad chest and shook his head. “Goddammit, Tom!”

“I don’t understand what I do in my apartment with my girlfriend—yes, I said _girlfriend_ —is any of your damn concern!”

“Cassie is my concern!” Chris yelled; his deep voice booming throughout the room. He calmed himself with a sigh before continuing. “I really like that girl, Tom…but you’re just going to hurt her.”

Tom scrunched is brow in offense. “I’m not going to hurt her.”

“Maybe not intentionally…I bet it’s going pretty great right now, isn’t it? It’s all laughing and fucking but soon…things are going to get serious and you’re going to get scared and run away just like you did…” he pursed his lips, “like you did with Kat. I liked her and I thought you did, too.”

Tom felt as if Chris had punched in the chest. “What I had with Kat was completely different from what I have with Cassie now.”

Chris scoffed at Tom’s comment. “Yeah…Just like Janet was different from Tamia, who was different from Sheila, who was different from Kimberly…”

Tom glowered at his friend. “I’m so sick and tired of you bringing up my past mistakes.”

“‘ _Mistake_ ’ implies that you’ve learned from them. I _told_ you months ago to kick her out, Tom, because this is who you are. I love you, man. I really do. But you are shit when it comes to relationships. I’ve never seen you hold on to one for more than two, three months. And when they end, they always end badly.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “Now, you’re just being an asshole, Chris. People can change.”

“A leopard can’t change its spots, Tom…Even if it wants to.”

“Okay,” Tom arose from the table, walked to the apartment door, and opened it. “I think it’s time for you, all of you, to fucking leave.” Chris Evans and Michael rose without protest. The tension between Tom and Hemsworth’s conversation was getting too heavy for them anyway.

Michael patted Tom on the back but didn’t speak before exiting (and Tom was grateful for it). Evans hit his shoulder and said, “Cassie’s a great, girl,” in a weak attempt at showing his support. Tom nodded and looked at Hemsworth who was still seated at the table.

Hemsworth exhaled before rising. “Look…I’m really not trying to be an asshole,” he said while walking towards the door. “But…you have sisters, right? Ask yourself…would you want them to go out with a guy like you? If you really like Cassie like you say you do…then for the love of god, man, _try_ to do right by her.”

Tom gripped the doorknob so hard that his knuckles turned white. “Goodbye. Chris,” he said through his teeth and slammed the door behind his friend. He leaned against it, closed his eyes, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. _People can change…people can change…people can change…_ his thoughts echoed. He felt a nagging constriction in his chest as the names and faces of his failed past relationships paraded behind his closed eyes. _People can change…Can’t they?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know! It's been forever since I uploaded this fic :( There's no smut in this chapter sorry but some fluff and plot. So...there's that.

Sister Sledge’s “Lost in Music” drifted out of one of Tom’s headphones (the other slapped carelessly against his chest) as he neared the end of his morning run. He hummed along to the disco tune as he stopped at the crosswalk.

“What are you listening to,” a voiced asked from beside him.

Tom turned in the direction of the voice and gave a smile to the young woman standing next to him. “Sister Sledge.”

“Ooh. Disco lover, are you?"

“Well, it has a good beat and I can dance to it.”

They both laughed and she extended her hand to him. “Rosa.”

Tom shook her hand and replied, “Tom.”

“I know,” Rosa said. She looked as if she was a millisecond away from bursting into a nervous giggle. “I’m a huge fan of yours. I saw you running by earlier and I wanted to take the chance to, I don’t know, say hello, I guess.” She smiled broadly causing her cheeks to dimple before quickly adding, “I hope that don’t freak you out or anything! I’m not, like, a crazy stalker fan or something!”

Tom gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s perfectly okay, Rosa. If anything I’m more concerned about what you’re doing out here alone this early in the morning.”

“Oh, my dad owns the bakery across the street. I usually help him open up.”

Tom looked across the street and saw a stout man staring him down with his arms folded across his chest. “I see,” he said before waving at the stern faced father. “He’s very protective of you, I imagine.”

“Well, you know how fathers are with their daughters. Plus I’m his closest living relative in this country so…”

Tom noticed that the walk signal was lit and gently placed a hand on her back to allow her to walk first. “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to the rest of your family?”

“I don’t mind,” her tone was perkier than before. She could still feel the impression of his hand on her back. “My older brother died in Afghanistan a few years ago and a couple of months back my mom passed away from cancer.” She said this so matter-of-factly that Tom wasn’t entirely sure how to react.

“I’m…so sorry,” he replied softly; his face held a frown.

“It’s okay. These things happen I suppose.”

Tom nodded in agreement and said, “Thank you for walking me across the street, Rosa.”

Rosa chuckled and before she could reply her father’s voice interjected, “¡Rosalina! ¡Ven acà! ¡Necesito tu ayuda!”

Rosa rolled her eyes and Tom chuckled at the action. “¡En un minuto, papi! Estoy hablando con mi amigo.”

"Tu ‘amigo’,” her father scoffed. “Los conozco todos a tus amigos. ¿Quién es este gringo?”

“¡Papi! Esto es Loki.”

Her father’s demeanor changed drastically. His sullen expression lit up and a smile grew on his face so wide that Tom was able to see the gaps in his teeth that were once hidden under his thick mustache. “You’re Loki?” Tom gave a humble smile and nodded. Rosa’s father trapped Tom in a bear hug. He leaned back and Tom’s feet surprisingly lifted a few inches off the ground.

“Wow,” Tom said once the man released his grip. “You’re stronger than you look, señor.”

The man’s stomach bounced as he laughed heartily. “I used to lift weights. I bet I can take you.” He playfully put up his dukes and Tom put up his palms in mock resistance.

"“Well, Loki’s not much of a fighter. He doesn’t like to get his hands dirty. He’d much rather call in an army.”

“Ah! This is true but they could not defeat ¡Los Avengers! Mija, go get the camera y saca una foto de mi con Loki.”

Rosa’s eyes grew wide in embarrassment. She was about to protest but Tom wrapped his arm around her father’s shoulders and said, “Oh, please do, Rosa! I would love to have a photo.” Rosa nearly blushed at his kindness and walked into the store. She returned a few moments later with her cell phone.

The men were deep in a conversation and Rosa cleared her throat to make them aware of her presence. “Papá,” she said when they turned to her, “I couldn’t find your camera but I got my cell.”

“Está bien. ¡Ven!” He waved her forward and she stood on the other side of Tom. Tom wrapped one arm around her shoulder and extended the other to take the picture. After three takes, Tom handed the cell back to Rosa before shaking her father’s hand. “Mija, I am going to put these on The Facebook so all my friend’s can see!” He looked at Tom and added, “Muchísimas gracias, mi amigo,” before entering the building.

“Yes. Thank you for humoring him,” Rosa said while tucking a strand of her wavy brown hair behind her ear. “I think he might be an even bigger fan than I am.”

Tom brought a hand to his chest. “Believe me, it was my pleasure.”

She paused and shifted on her feet. “So…,” she started, “do you want to grab something? We serve breakfast foods as well.”

She licked her lips and inadvertently drew Tom’s attention to them. He hadn’t noticed before how lovely she was. She had a heart shaped face and long lashes framed her big, warm brown eyes. She had a few freckles on her nose and bow shaped lips. Her skin held the faintest hint of brown and, even though it was still early morning and the sun appeared dull compared to the brightness it would illuminate later in the day, her skin retained a soft glow.

He knew the invitation to breakfast was her way of trying to get him to stay a few minutes and talk with her…or more. The way she looked up at him from under those lashes told him that if he so much as whispered to her or gently rubbed his thumb across her bottom lip she would fall into his arms and ask him to take her right there in the doorway of her father’s bakery. It was a look that screamed that she was eager to learn—she probably had little, if any, sexual experience with an overprotective father like hers. Or maybe she had a rebellious side to her. Maybe she fooled around with a couple of boyfriends behind her father’s back. The only way he could know for sure was to take her up on her offer for “breakfast.”

A year ago he wouldn’t hesitate to say yes. A year ago he would have pretended to have a conversation with her while his hand roamed up that skirt she was wearing and into the bands of her panties. He would have fucked her in the bathroom with his hand over her mouth so her father wouldn’t hear them. A year ago he probably would have fucked her at least twice before moving on to the next eager fan.

But now…

“I’m afraid I must decline,” he said with a wary smile. “But I do appreciate the offer.” He started to jog down the road but Rosa called after him and stopped him in his tracks.

“Wait…,” she disappeared inside the bakery and reemerged a minute later with a bag of chocolate chip cookies. She handed the bag to him. “Something to remember me by.” Tom thanked her as he took the bag from her. “If you like them…,” Rosa took a step forward and enclosed the distance between them. Tom hadn’t noticed before but she smelled as sweet as the cookies in his hand. "“If you like them,” she continued, “You should come back for more. There are a lot of sweet things inside.”

Tom’s eyes dropped to her lips again before meeting her eyes. Oh, she was most definitely the rebellious girl. Hell…she might have been able to even teach _him_ a thing or two. A year ago he would have made some sly, flirtatious remark and left with more than a bag of sweets. Instead, he gave her one last polite smile before jogging away.

___________________

He expected his senses to be filled with the delicious smells of whatever breakfast Cassie was cooking when he entered the apartment; instead, he found the kitchen empty and the stove cold. _She must still be sleeping_ , he thought. He walked toward the bedroom and heard water running through the bathroom door. He tapped on it. “Cassie? Is that you?”

He heard a faucet shut off and Charlie’s voice call out, “Office,” before the faucet turned on again.

Tom opened his office door and saw Cassie sitting in front of her laptop. The light from the computer lit up the features of her face. She had a pencil stuck between her full lips as she clacked away at the keyboard. She was still wearing her silk bonnet over her hair but a few reddish brown curls managed to escape and hung to her forehead. Tom smiled at the image.

Cassie suddenly looked up from the computer screen at him. “Oh, hey,” her voiced cracked slightly. “How long you’ve been standing there?”

“Not long.” Tom stepped further into the room. “I brought you some cookies.” He tossed the bag he had gotten from Rosa on the desk.

“Cookies? What kind?”

“Chocolate chip.” Cassie gleefully opened the bag and pulled out a cookie as large as Tom’s hand. She took a bite of it and let out an “mmmm” at its taste. Tom smiled at the way she happily bounced in her chair as she took another bite of the cookie.

“How long have you been up?”

“Hmm?” She looked at the time on her screen and, upon noticing the hour, let out a swear. “I didn’t know it was that early! Ugh…but I should’ve known since you’re wearing your sweats. I bet you’re starving. Lemme go make you breakfast.”

Tom put a hand on her shoulder. “No. You looked like you were pretty deep in the zone before I came in. You finish writing and I’ll make you breakfast.”

“You’re sweeter than this cookie I’m eating, ya know that?”

“Sweet enough to give you a toothache,” he replied before playfully tapping her nose. He started to turn away but he stopped and took another look at her.

“What,” she asked while breaking off a piece of the cookie and popping it into her mouth.

“You’re beautiful.” He said this as if it were the first time he’d ever saw her. His eyes traveled over every inch of her face. Even the dark marks that would normally be covered with makeup seemed beautiful to him. One was a dark line across one of her cheeks—a permanent reminder of her and Daya’s fight; another came from some childhood mischief that she had often found herself in. To him, they weren’t imperfections but remnants of untold or forgotten stories of her life. Sometimes when she lay next to him at night, he would run his fingertips over the two tiny moles that sat behind the right side of her neck. (Of all her marks, those were his favorite).

“If you got any sweeter you’d give me diabetes,” Cassie said before grabbing Tom’s shirt and pulling him down for a kiss.

“Hmmm….Give me another.: Cassie giggled before placing another peck on his lips. “And one more for the road.” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her passionately. “You know,” he said once their lips parted, “we can just forget about breakfast and…”

Cassie put a finger to his lips and cut him off. “No, no, no. I can’t have any more distractions while I’m working, Thomas. Sorry.”

“How about a quickie? Just an hour or two or three,” Tom said with a pout.

“You play too damn much, boy.” Cassie grabbed his biceps and turned him toward the exit. “Go make me some scrambled eggs.” She slapped him on his ass and he let out an “ooh” in response.

“You know I like it rough, Cas.”

“Oh my god, boy.” She pushed him out the door. “Bye!” She closed the door behind him and returned to her work. She was barely situated again when the door reopened and Tom’s head popped inside.

“How bout I go down on you while you work, hmm? Get those juices flowing?”

“You so damn nasty!” Cassie threw a pencil at him but he ducked and gave his signature laugh before closing the door behind him.

____________________

Cassie was sitting in Tom’s lap and laughing as he repeatedly pulled the spoon of frozen yogurt from her mouth. “Uh-uh! Too slow, shorty!”

Cassie held his wrists with both hands and quickly lapped up the frozen treat. She threw her arms up and yelled, “Victory, sucker!”

Tom scooped up another spoonful and lifted it high above his head. “You want another bite?”

She made a face and sucked her teeth before attempting to reach for the bowl; but Tom, being quicker, grabbed it and lifted out of her reach as well. “You don’t play fair, you damn giraffe!” Tom gave a mischievous laugh in response. “Two can play that game.” She turned around and straddled him.

“That’s not going to…” His thought was cut off by the feeling of her lips on his neck. Her tongue grazed his jaw line while she slowly rocked against his lap. “Oh fuck this,” he said before dumping the spoon back on the bowl and placing it on the table. He wrapped his arms around Cassie’s back and lifted her onto the table next to it.

Cassie giggled as she reached for the frozen treat. “I win!”

“Congrats. You get that and I get this.” He began working on the top button of her shorts when the apartment door open and Charlie’s voiced greeted them. Tom laid his head on Cassie’s chest in frustration and she let out a loud laugh while gently rubbing the back of his head.

“Sorry,” Charlie said when he realized what he interrupted.

“It’s okay,” Cassie said rising. The sour look on Tom’s face, however, reaffirmed for Charlie that it was not, in fact, okay. “Where were you?”

“Out.”

Cassie took a bite of the yogurt. “At a meeting?” She fed a bite to Tom who was drumming an unknown beat on her bare thigh while his mouth sat eagerly agape.

“Uh…no. I had an errand to take care of. Nothing important,” Charlie lied. He had just come back from signing a year-long lease on one of his uncle’s apartments. He still hadn’t figured out how to inform Cassie of his decision to move out. At one point he came up with a plan to secretly remove his possessions and leave a note explaining things but he decided against it. He reasoned that he had to tell her face-to-face but he kept putting off the conversation because he didn’t want to upset her. However, his uncle had promised to have the apartment cleaned and move-in ready for him and he could move in as early as tomorrow if he wanted.

And he desperately wanted to leave as soon as possible. He adored Cassie but he just couldn’t take another day of being the third wheel. He couldn’t take repeatedly walking in on scenes like the one he interrupted a few moments ago. “Nut up, boy,” he heard his father’s voice say. “Be a goddamn man!”

Charlie took a deep inhale before saying, “Cassie, I lied to you.”

Cassie looked up at him from the bowl of yogurt in her hand and raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

“About where I was. I mean, I _did_ run an errand but I lied about the importance of it."

Cassie sat the bowl next to her on the table. “Why you being hella cryptic right now, Charlie?”

“Because I want you to not get upset about what I’m about to tell you, okay?” Cassie nodded slowly; her face held a look of confusion and worry. “I’m moving out.”

Cassie sprung off the table. “You’re what?”

“I’m moving,” Charlie repeated; this time his tone was more assured.

“No you’re not!”

“Yes, Cassie, I am.”

“No…you are not. Tom, tell this fool he’s not going anywhere!”

“Charles, mate, you can’t leave. I mean…not to be rude here, but where are you going to go? Your apartment is still uninhabitable.”

“My uncle got me a great deal on a place.”

“Oh, good on you, mate. Where?”

“It’s called Twelve Gardens. It’s right off…”

“Are you both fucking kidding me right now?” Cassie turned to Tom. “Why are you asking him questions like he’s actually leaving?”

“Because, Cas,” Charlie answered for Tom, “I am leaving. I move in tomorrow. I probably should go pack.” He turned down the hall and Cassie began to follow behind him but was cut short by Tom’s voice.

“Cassie! Don’t…”

She put her hand up to silence him and continued down the hall. When she entered the bedroom she found Charlie pulling out his suitcase and an old leftovers box from when they first moved in. She wanted to rip the suitcase in his hands and tear the box like a bratty child. Instead, she folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the door jamb and watched him remove his clothes from Tom’s large walk-in.

“Please don’t go,” Cassie said softly after a while.

“I was wondering when you would say something,” Charlie said while folding and packing a shirt. He didn’t look up at her while he continued packing. “I gotta go, Cas. You know I do. I can’t stay here and be the third wheel.”

“But you’re not a third wheel,” her tone was still low but Charlie could make out a slight crack in her voice. He refused to make eye contact out of fear that her sad face would crack his reserve.

“I am. And you know it.”

“No! I want you here! And Tom…”

“Wants me gone,” Charlie finished for her.

Cassie shook her head. “No. That’s not true. He wouldn’t have invited you to stay if…”

Charlie finally looked up at her. “If I didn’t come attached with you. He tolerates me…barely. And I’m fine with that. Really I am. But face it, Cas. The only thing we really have in common is that we care about the same woman.”

Cassie gently shook her head again as if she was having difficulty processing what her friend was saying. “But you guys hang out…”

“With you.”

Cassie heard Tom’s footsteps in the hall and shut the door behind her. “That’s bull, Charlie. What about when I’m not here? You guys hang out then.”

“Barely. Your boyfriend goes out jogging or we keep the TV on…or find some other way to keep ourselves entertained. We don’t even speak unless it’s about you. Just like I did with Daya.”

“Daya and Tom are nothing alike.”

“I’m not saying they are. I’m saying…,” he paused momentarily before continuing. “I’m saying we only associated with each other because of you. I knew nothing about them and they sure as hell don’t know jack shit about me.” He shrugged and added, “It’s whatever.”

Cassie’s heart began to ache. She walked up to Charlie and enclosed her arms around him. Charlie didn’t usually like being touched. Even when his past lovers would attempt to do cute things like caress his face or tickle him he would recoil and ask them to stop. There were only two people in his lives that he didn’t mind touching him: Cassie and his sister, Sara.

“Oh god, Charlie,” Cassie said into his chest. “I’m so fucking sorry. I’ve been so focused on my own bullshit that I didn’t even notice that you were miserable.”

Charlie wrapped his arms around Cassie’s shoulders. “It’s okay, sweetie. I’m okay.” He pulled back from her and cupped her chin in his hand. “And you will be, too. A lot of good things are gonna happen for you, Cas. It just looks like shit right now. My leaving is one of those good things. Trust me on this.” He placed a platonic kiss on her cheek before turning back to the closet and grabbing more of his clothes.

Cassie wiped a tear out of the corner of one of her eyes. “I was supposed to be comforting you, Charlie.” He laughed in response and threw a pile of clothes on the bed. A few missed and fell to the floor. Cassie picked them up, sat on a clear spot on the bed, and began folding the items in her hands. She chuckled to herself as she reflected over the words of encouragement Charlie had just given her.

“What,” Charlie asked as he grabbed a pair of jeans from the pile on the bed.

“Nothing. Just…sometimes you’re like a living fortune cookie, you know that?”

He stuck the folded jeans in his suitcase. “What can I say?” He grabbed another piece of clothing. “I’m like…your gay guru.” Cassie rolled her eyes and threw a pair of socks at his head before they both burst into a fit of laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologize for my horrible Spanish. It has been a HELL of a long time since I've written anything in Spanish (I have a degree in it too *laughs bitterly forever*). If it doesn't make sense or if I missed an accent mark or something please let me know so I can correct it. :D


	7. Chapter 7

Charlie groaned as he dropped the last box containing his possessions on the floor of his new apartment. “Is that it,” Cassie asked while squatting next to the box and opening the flaps.

“Yeah. That’s it.” Charlie leaned back to crack his back. “I don’t know why my body hurts like this.”

“Well, you _are_ an old man,” Cassie joked as she pulled a stack of picture frames from the box and gently placed them on the chair next to her.

“Hey,” Charlie protested, “I am twenty-seven! And you’re not that far behind me!”

“Uh, I am still a fine young thing, grandpa. I’m not even in my mid twenties yet!”

“Cassie, you’re twenty-five.”

“I’m twenty-four and a quarter.”

“‘And a quarter.'” Charlie made a face and Cassie chuckled at it.

“Yes! I won’t be twenty five until March, thank you! Don’t be trying to put me up with your old ass before my time.”

“You’re just afraid of getting old. Admit it.”

“Charlie, baby, have you seen my genetics? My grandma’s seventy and she only looks forty-five! I’m gonna be the flyest grandma ever.” Charlie rolled his eyes as Cassie removed the last item from the box—a copy of Allen Ginsberg’s _Howl_ —and placed it on a nearby table. She moved to a new box and started to unload it. “Anyway,” she began as she pulled out a few DVDs, “if anyone should fear growing old it’s you.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Why,” he asked as he placed a couple of the pictures she unpacked on a table next to him.

“Well…when I turn eighty my skin is still gonna be popping like some catfish in Criso…” Charlie furrowed his eyebrow in confusion at the peculiar phrase but said nothing. “And when _you_ turn eighty,” Cassie continued, “you gonna end up looking like curdled milk.”

Charlie threw his head back in laughter. “I ought to kick your ass out for that shit, Cas.”

“He tried to kick me out his apartment but I won’t go, go, go,” she sang to the tune of Amy Winehouse’s “Rehab” as she continued digging through the box in front of her.

They continued joking and conversing as they continued to unpack and put away his belongings. When they finished Charlie ordered a couple of pizzas and they spent the next few hours watching movies on his laptop.

Cassie stretched and yawned as the credits rolled on the DVD. “What time is it?”

Charlie looked at his watch. “It’s a little after three thirty.”

“Ugh…I guess I better go home and get some rest before my shift at the bar tonight.” They rose from the couch and walked toward the apartment door. Charlie opened it and Cassie started to exit but then she stopped and turned back to her friend. “You know…it’s still not too late to move back in.”

“I don’t know…all my shit’s here.”

“So? I’ll buy you new shit,” she said with a pout.

Charlie smiled and embraced her. “Silly rabbit,” he said resting his head atop hers, “I’m not moving back to Texas or out of the country. I’m barely thirty minutes away. And that’s with traffic. I’ll be right here, kid, okay?” She nodded. “Good.” He placed a platonic kiss on her head and caught a quick whiff of her scent. “Hmm…Coconut. Cas, your shampoo is making me hungry again. I’m tempted to bite your head like a Tootsie pop.” He grabbed the sides of her head and pretended to gnaw on it.

Cassie giggled and pushed him away. “You’re so weird.”

“But you love me, though.”

“I do. God help me.” They hugged goodbye and Charlie tapped his foot against the banister as he watched her walk down the single flight of stairs and out the front door of the building. He continued to stare at the entrance and tightened his grip on the banister as a feeling of anxiety crept into him.

He closed his eyes and took a few calming breaths before releasing his vice-like grip on the railing. “She’ll be all right, Charles,” he whispered aloud to himself before turning back to his apartment. He stopped a few feet from his door and looked back at the building entrance as if he were expecting Cassie to suddenly burst back into the building at any second.

The door did open but instead of Cassie a tall, slender blonde woman entered and stopped at the mailbox. Charlie let out a sigh of relief. “Yeah. She’ll be fine,” he repeated to himself before finally entering his apartment and closing the door behind him.

__________________

Tom was sitting on the couch with a stack of papers in one hand. When he heard the door open he turned his attention from them. “Hey, babe,” he gleefully greeted Cassie.

“Hi.” She walked over to him and planted a kiss on his forehead. “What you looking at?”

“Just some shit my agent sent me.” He tossed the papers aside and pulled Cassie down on his lap. “Is Charles all moved in?”

“Yeah. And I’m sad about it. See?” She gave him her best puppy eyes and pouted.

Tom chuckled and rubbed her thigh. “Poor baby. Let me make you feel better.” He began to unbutton her shorts and Cassie slapped his hand away. “What?”

“Why are you always thinking about sex?”

“I’m trying to comfort you!”

“With your dick?”

“I’m a giver, babe. And right now…,” he kissed down her neck, “I’m trying to give you this dick.”

Cassie rolled her eyes at his comment while his hand came up under her shirt and fondled her breast through her bra. “You ain’t shit, Tom. You can’t even _pretend_ —for five fucking seconds—that you’re gonna miss my best friend.”

Tom let out a frustrated groan and looked her in the eyes. “I’m not saying I won’t miss him. Charles is a good guy and a great friend to you. But I’m also not going to act as if I’m not happy to finally have you all to myself. I mean, aren’t you glad that we can finally have some alone time?”

She sighed. “I guess…”

“‘I guess.'” Tom mocked her accent nearly perfectly.

“Don’t mock me, Tom.”

“‘Don’t mock me, Tom.'” She glared at him and he gave her a mischievous smile in return.

She sucked her teeth and he imitated the sound as well. “Your southern accent sucks anyway.”

He placed a hand to his chest in fake offense. “Oh, that cut me real deep, Cas. Seriously. I think I might be bleeding.”

“Aww…” Cassie playfully rubbed his chest as if she was trying to soothe his fake injury. “Is the baby feelings hurt?” Tom pouted and nodded. “Will some kisses make it all better.” He nodded again. Cassie smiled and kissed his forehead. “Better?” He was still pouting as he shook his head no. “The baby want more, huh?” She kissed his left cheek then his right before pecking his nose. She began to suck on his bottom lip while rocking her hips against his crotch. He brought a hand to the back if her head and grabbed a handful of her curls; the other wandered down her petite frame. Their lips separated and she gave him two quick pecks on the lips before asking, “Are you hurting anywhere else?”

“Well, now that you mentioned it…” He looked down at his crotch before returning his eyes to her with a smirk on his face.

She fell on her knees between his legs. She unzipped his pants and pulled out his semi-erect cock. She gently stroked him and smiled. “I’m sure Nurse Cassie can help fix that.”

She licked the pre-cum from the tip of his cock and let out an “mmm…” at the taste before placing a soft kiss on it. She continued to place wet kisses down one side of his shaft and up the other. She looked up at him; his piercing blue eyes were locked on her. She gave him a devious smile before spitting on his cock. He moaned at the vulgar act. He bit his bottom lip as he watched as she licked her spit off his cock before taking him into her mouth.

He let out groans of pleasure as he watched her lovingly bobbed and sucked on his cock. She pulled him out of her mouth—the suction making a popping sound as she did so—and he missed her warm mouth immediately. “No, don’t stop,” he murmured.

“Hold on, baby,” she replied while rising. “I just have to get out of these clothes right quick.”

He bit his bottom lip and stroked himself as he watched her remove her shirt and bra and tossing them across the room. He smiled as she threw him a wink as she unbuttoned and slid her shorts off her narrow waist followed by bright yellow thong. She fell back to her knees and helped him stroke his cock.

She rolled her tongue around his tip and his breath hitched at the sensation. She wrapped her mouth around him and he threw his head back in ecstasy as she began to bob up and down his length. He breathed out an “f-fuck…” before again watching her fuck him with her mouth. Cassie rubbed tiny circles on her clit as she sucked on him. She let out an “mmm…” as her mouth repeatedly met her hand.

He could feel his orgasm building in his lower abdomen. “Cassie…,” he moaned, “I want to….fuck!…I want come on your tits.”

She pulled him back out of her mouth and leaned back so he could have a better aim for her chest. She massaged a breast with one hand as the other continued to work on her clit. Tom stroked himself faster as he watched her play with herself. “Shit,” he called out as he came.

Cassie bit her lip and let out an “ah!” as Tom’s hot come painted her dark skin. He took a moment to admire how sexy she looked sitting between his legs and rubbing some of the white seed into her dark flesh. He brought the tip of his cock to her lips and she instinctively licked the last drop of his come off it. She scooped some of the come off her chest with her finger and sucked it clean. She was about to scoop some more up when Tom gently grabbed her wrist to stop her.

“Hold on. Come here.” Cassie rose and straddled him. He rubbed the still warm come over the nipple of her right breast and licked it off.

Cassie’s eyes grew large at his actions. “Man…you are some kind of freaky.” Tom only chuckled at the comment and continued to lick her tit clean of his seed. He continued to roll his tongue around her perky nipple before biting on it causing her to let out a yelp at the feeling. She ground her hips against his crotch and she could feel his cock begin to harden underneath her.

Tom continued to run his tongue across her humble chest—licking up and swallowing any come that fell upon it—and brought her other tit to his mouth. She watched him flick his tongue against her nipple before sucking on it. She reached between her legs and quickly stroked his cock; and when she felt it fully harden in her hand, she rose and guided him towards her entrance and slammed down on his length.

Their mouths hungrily met as she bounced on his dick. Tom stuck his tongue in her mouth and repeatedly flicked at Cassie’s tongue. Cassie wrapped one arm around his neck as his tongue moved from inside her mouth and traced down her jaw. He wrapped an arm across the small of her back; the other grabbed her head, pulled it back and exposed her neck to him. “Oh god…fuck…,” Cassie murmured out as he nibbled at the concave where her neck and shoulder met.

“Shit, Cassie,” he called out as he threw his head back. He clenched his jaw and began thrusting into her faster. Soon the only sounds were of their collective grunts and groans as they fucked hard and fast on the living room couch.

Cassie released shuddering breaths as she felt her orgasm ripple through her, causing her body to jerk at the sensation. Tom buried his face in her chest as he continued to drive into her. “Fuck! Cassie! I…”

He was so close. He could feel it coil in his stomach. “Cas….I…,” he said through gritted teeth.

Cassie could feel another orgasm coming as well. “Tom…oh fuck! Tom…,” she called out as she pulsed and clenched around his cock as she came.

Her second orgasm threatened to finally bring on his on. “Cassie….I…love…you,” he called out in strained breaths as he stroked into her a few more times before filling her with his seed.

Neither of them spoke; their panting breathes filled the silence. Tom buried his face in Cassie’s chest. He wasn’t ready to look at her yet. He wasn’t sure if she had heard him. Hell, _he_ wasn’t even sure he had said what he thought he had. Maybe, he began to hope, the words that played in his mind like a never ending drum beat, the words that had hung in the back of his throat for months hadn’t really stumbled out of his mouth. Maybe…

Cassie rested her head against his and ran her fingers through his hair. He could feel her chest gently rise and fall. He could even feel the vibration of her voice as she said, barely above a whisper, “I love you, too.”

When those supposedly sweet words hit his ears, his body began to tremble slightly and his heart began to beat so fast that it felt as if it threatened to burst. He couldn’t discern whether he wanted to cheer at the top of his lungs and kiss her or go flying out of his own apartment. Cassie sweetly repeating the phrase while she planted delicate kisses atop his head further exacerbated his inner turmoil. He squeezed his eyes closed and attempted to take soothing breaths but to no avail.

It should not have frightened him to love this woman—this adoring, gentle woman who he desired since the moment he laid eyes on. Loving her was the easiest decision he could ever make. Yet here he was silently panicking while he sat underneath her gorgeous body as she affectionately caressed him. And he hated himself for it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rather long. Sorry about that. I was going to split it into two but I think it works better as one. Anway enjoy!

Cassie popped her pencil between her lips and marched around the living room while reading a printed draft of her screenplay. It was all but finished. The ending was giving her the most grief. Every one she came up with was too sappy for her taste and, with each repeated reread, she grew more annoyed with her work. More than once she was tempted to throw it in the trash and start over with new characters but that was just the dramatic artist in her. She would never destroy it—even when she grew tired of it—because it was currently the only work she had left thanks to Daya. Cassie tensed her jaw at the memory of pulling half fire eaten remnants of her old scripts from the kitchen sink; her grip on the screenplay in her hand tightened as if she was protecting it from any potential assailants. This currently imperfect work would be the thing to show everyone—Daya, her agent, Hollywood—that she wasn’t just a fluke or some flash in the pan. Once they saw this, her talent would no longer be ignored. Or at least she hoped so. All she had to do was fix that damn ending.

She murmured the last few lines to herself. Her face soured at them. She leaned on the edge of the couch and drew brackets around the parts that she didn’t like before penciling a few notes in the upper right corner of the page. She flipped back ten pages and started to read the scene again. The melodic tone of her cell ringing on the nearby table made her jump in surprise. She absentmindedly stuck the pencil back between her lips as she grabbed and hit the “answer” button on her cell.

“Rey, Char—“ Cassie rolled her eyes at her foolishness before tossing both the pencil and the script onto the couch. “Hey, Charlie! Yes, I’m still meeting you….What are you talking about? You said twelve and it’s only…,” she pulled the phone back to read the time. Her eyes were slightly weak from reading all morning without her reading glasses (which she had managed to misplace) and could barely make out the small numbers sitting in the upper right corner of the screen. She squinted the numbers into focus and let out a swear at the time. “Shit, Charlie! I didn’t know I was so late! Let me grab my shit and I’ll be there in twenty.”

Cassie ended the call and immediately sprinted to the bedroom and traded her pajama pants for a pair of shorts before switching her white tank that had gotten dirty with grape jelly from her breakfast with a blue shirt at had the words “naughty girl” across the front. She slipped into a pair of the closest flats and ran back into the living room. She grabbed her screenplay and shoved it into her large shoulder bag. She looked around the room while her mind frantically tried to remember if she had everything she needed before leaving.

“Duh, Cas,” she said as she softly tapped a side of her head with her hand. “Keys!” She grabbed her keys from the bowl on the coffee table and quickly bounced out the door.  
______________________

Cassie rushed into the restaurant that she was supposed to meet Charlie at. It so happened to be the same one she had her encounter with Daya in only a little over a month earlier. She exchanged a look with the woman that had waited on them then. She could see the apprehension in the poor woman’s eyes. Cassie desperately wanted to assure her that there would be no repeats of the events that had taken place before but she decided against it. Instead, she gave her a polite smile (getting a stern grimace in return) as she made her way to the table Charlie was sitting at.

“It’s one o’clock, Cas,” Charlie said while tapping his watchless wrist with his index finger.

“I know! I know!" She took a seat from across him. “Traffic was hell. Then parking was an even bigger bitch. How’d you get here?”

“My uncle let me borrow his truck.” Cassie nodded and placed her bag in the empty chair between them. “What took you so long,” Charlie asked while signaling for the waitress.

“This,” she replied as she pulled out her screenplay from her bag and placed it on the table.

“You finished it? Already? You’re a beast, woman!”

“Thank you! Thank you," she replied with a chuckle. “But it’s only a draft.”

“Ah, yes! The infamous fifth draft!” He flipped through the pages. “I take it you want my expertise, hmm?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just wanted to let you know I finished it. Well, sorta…it still needs a good ending.”

Charlie chuckled as he flipped the first page back. “You could’ve texted me to tell me you finished it. You want my help like usual.”

Cassie playfully sucked her teeth. “I don’t know about all that.”

“Oh, you know you want my help. Just ask me, baby. Say, ‘Charles can you look over my script, please?’”

She laughed and swept a stray curl from her face before leaning across the table. “Oh, great and wonderful Charles Anthony Leonetti, could you please, please, please bless me by looking over my screenplay.”

Charlie pretended to ponder it before saying, “Hmm…Your exhalations could use some work but I suppose I could approve your pitiful request, Cassandra Patricia Greene.” They both chuckled and Charlie skimmed over the first page and asked, “What did you say about the ending?”

“It isn’t done. I mean, I don’t like what I have. So be gentle.”

“Okay. Order the special for me when the waitress gets back.”

Cassie nodded and when the waitress finally came she ordered the special for both of them. She divided her attention between her lunch and Twitter or Tumblr for the next hour as Charlie looked over her work. Every once in a while, he would look up from it to pop a fry in his mouth, take a bite if his burger or a sip of water. Each time he moved, Cassie’s head would jerk up from her phone and look in his direction and await a comment from him. Yet, he never spoke. Instead he chuckled at the humorous bits—causing Cassie to smile—and grumbled at random parts before writing a note on whichever page he was on—causing Cassie to frown. When he had finally finished reading, he pushed the screenplay back towards her and folded his arms across his chest as he leaned back in his seat; his face held a stern expression. Cassie bit her lip and twiddled her fingers as she awaited his opinion.

“Well,” she finally coaxed after a few moments of silence.

Charlie’s face relaxed into a smile. “It’s…amazing, Cas!”

She couldn’t contain herself and let out a loud squeal that caused Charlie to wince. She covered her mouth and apologized to him and the surrounding patrons she unintentionally disturbed. “Do you really like it,” she asked while flipping through the screenplay for his notes.

“Yeah. It’s a little wordy in some places so the dialogue can be cut back a page or two.”

“You talking about scene sixteen, aren’t you?”

He chuckled. “Yeah. I mean, it was good stuff, Cas—really!—but I can’t imagine anyone being able to remember all of those lines.”

“Oh please. That scene ain’t got nothing on Shakespeare’s soliloquies.”

“Yeah but people’s attention spans are much shorter now. They won’t make it through all of that dialogue.”

“True,” Cassie said with a sigh as she continued to look over his notes. “Anything else?”

“Yeah. About the name ‘Rachel’…Think you can come up with something else?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t attached to it, really. It was a placeholder. Every time I hear the name I think about that girl from Friends. Shit. What’s her name?”

“Jennifer Aniston.”

“Yes! Every time I wrote a line for Rachel I thought about a mid-nineties Jennifer Aniston. Then I thought about all that Ross and Rachel drama…”

“Ugh! I hated Ross and Rachel! Monica and Chandler were the better couple.”

“Right?” Cassie looked back at her screenplay and turned her head to one side as she tried to decipher Charlie’s handwriting. “What’s this about scene seven? I can’t make it out.” She turned it so he could get a better look.

"Oh! ‘Move after 23.’" Cassie made a face that urged him to explain further. "I think that scene would work better later in the story. Like a flashback."

Cassie nodded her head. “I feel you. Then maybe we can move scene thirty up?”

“Yep! I was thinking the same thing. Also, the ending’s not bad…it’s just missing something. I’m not sure what, though. But other than that, Cas, I like it! It’s nice to see you writing again. I hate to say it but I was afraid I lost you for a moment there.”

“Yeah, well, you almost did,” she said softly. “With everything that’s happened since we got here, I thought I lost my passion for it. I thought I ran out of stories to tell. But now…,” she shrugged her shoulders and gave a small smile, “I don’t know. I guess I found my muse again.”

“Love will do that to you.”

Cassie raised an eyebrow in surprise. She hadn’t told anyone how much she cared for Tom and they’d only just professed it to one another two days ago. “How’d you know?”

“Well, for one you wrote a love story—something you’ve never done in all the years I’ve known you. And for two, I’m observant. Hell, anyone with working eyes and half a brain could see you two were more just than friends. And even if they couldn’t, y’all were never really good at hiding it.”

“We weren’t hiding it. We were, I mean, I was just trying to be careful with my heart. I didn’t want to get too wrapped up in him in case this thing didn’t last, ya know?”

Charlie nodded that he understood. He adjusted in his seat and asked, “Does Tom know?” Cassie furrowed her brow in confusion. “That you love him, I mean.” Cassie couldn’t help but to beam and a broad smile grew on Charlie’s face in return. He loved seeing her happy. “Don’t hold out on me, girl! Details!”

“I don’t know what to say," she giggled. "He just… said it. ‘Cassie…I…love…you…’”

“Why the hell was he saying it like that?”

“Well…he sorta blurted it out during sex." The smile dropped from her face at the realization of what she had just said. "Oh god. He said it during sex!”

“So?”

“So…shouldn’t declarations of love be special? Like over candlelight dinners or some shit? Not while you’re deep inside someone?”

“‘Candlelight dinners?’ I mean, if we lived in a Disney movie maybe. Listen, in the real world sometimes people say it whenever the feeling takes hold of them. James told me he loved me while we were driving to my cousin’s birthday party.”

“Really?”

“Yep. In between early evening Dallas traffic and Britney Spears singing ‘If You Seek Amy’ he turns to me, says, ‘I love you, Charlie,’ and looks back at the road like nothing happened.”

“Oh my god…I just got the cutest visual.” She giggled at the mental image of Charlie silently cringing as James sang loudly and off-key to the pop tune before stopping to whisper out ‘I love you’ and then resuming his loud tempo. She took a breath to calm herself or else she’d laugh for the rest of the afternoon. “You never told me that. What did you say?”

“I told him I loved him back. Two and a half weeks later. During a fight.”

“What?” Cassie stole the last fry from Charlie’s plate and ate it. “Did you mean it?”

“I did.”

“And…he believed you?”

“Well…Yeah. Because he knew me. He knew I wouldn’t just throw the words around without meaning them. And…I think he knew how I felt even before I ever told him.”

“So…you’re saying I’m over thinking this?”

“A little, yeah. I mean, it’s not like Tom was some one night stand who asked you to marry him while he was busting a nut.”

Cassie put a hand over her mouth to suppress the loud laugh she wanted to burst into. “That’s…very specific, Charles.”

“I’ll tell you the story of the closeted dudebro with the tiny cock later.” Cassie gave in and threw her head back in laughter. Charlie joined in with her and the sound caused the surrounding patrons to turn their attention to the table in annoyance. Cassie mouth out an apology before placing her hand over her mouth to muffle the last of her dying laughter; Charlie simply rolled his eyes.

“I swear you have the best bad sex stories, dude.”

“I could write a book. But back to the subject, don’t let how Tom said he love you overshadow the fact that he said it.”

“I guess. It’s just…How can I be sure he meant it? I really don’t want to get hurt again.” She looked at her hands and in a soft, almost inaudible tone added, “I don’t think I could survive it.”

Charlie’s heart nearly broke at her words. He had known of the trouble she had with her past loves and how each failed relationship had taken a part of her when they ended. He reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “Look at me, Cassie.” She turned her gaze to him. Her face was sullen; her eyes were watery and threatened to turn into tears at the slightest provocation. “Tom is not Jamir or Greg or Simone. He cares for you. I know this and you do, too. Besides, do you think Tom is the type of guy to say something that important to you and not mean it?”

Cassie shook her head and softly replied, “No. But don’t you think that—”

Charlie put up his index finger to silence her. “Uh-uh! Listen, this man fell in love with you. Truly and fully. I know because I was there. I saw him get swept up in the awesomeness that is you, girl.”

Cassie gave a light scoffing laugh. “You only think I’m awesome because you’re my friend.”

“No. I’m family. And I think you’re awesome because you are. Now here,” he handed her a napkin from the dispenser on the table, “wipe your eyes. I can’t stand to see you cry.”

Cassie smiled and dapped at her watery eyes with the napkin. “You keep me sane, Charlie. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

______________________

Tom looked both ways before quickly jogging across the street to the parking garage across from the building where his audition was. He handed the attendant his ticket and waited patiently while he brought his car around. He checked the time on his watch: 1:47pm. After this he had another audition across town at two thirty, followed by a meeting with his agent at three (which he would have to move back an hour since he doubted he would be able to make it to her office in time), then an early dinner with a director for a role he was eyeing, and he hoped to get in another run before it hot too dark. His schedule was packed.

He normally liked a full schedule because it kept him busy. He absolutely hated to waste time. There was too much to do (or could be done) than just sitting around. But that was before Cassie. When she stormed into his life, he slowly found himself missing or rescheduling appointments and spending more and more time at his apartment. Any second not spent with her—either laying about the house, or watching whatever they could find, or wrapped in her arms—was a waste of time.

Or at least…it was before he blurted out that he loved her.

He could feel his chest start to tighten again. After that day, he let professional side take over again. He figured that if he was constantly busy then he wouldn’t have to deal with the war between his heart and his fear. The only time he couldn’t escape it was late at night when he laid in bed next to Cassie. His heart would tell him to caress her and pull her close; to let her gentle snoring lull him to sleep. But his fear would tell him to run. Run fast and run far. And even though he hated himself for it, he always listened to the fear.

“Here you are, Mr. Hiddleston.” The attendant’s voice snapped Tom from his thoughts. Tom thanked the young man and took his car keys before pulling out his wallet and giving him a generous tip. The attendant’s eyes grew wide at the large bill in his hand. “Holy shit! Thank you, sir!”

Tom nodded and entered his car. He chuckled to himself as he watched the attendant hold the bill up to the sun and flip it front and back as he looked for any signs that it wasn’t real. Tom’s cell dinged. He looked at the reminder he set, gave one last polite wave to the attendant and drove away.

______________________

It was half past twelve in the morning when Tom dragged himself into the apartment. His head was slightly buzzing from the early dinner which had turned into late drinks. (He really should have stopped at the fifth shot of whiskey). He groaned as he shuffled to the bedroom and kicked his shoes off at the foot of the bed. He removed his clothes and grabbed a pair of pajama pants from his dresser, put them on, and climbed into bed. He closed his eyes hoping that he could will himself to sleep but the pounding in his head wouldn’t allow him. Plus the relative quiet stirred up that ever present war between his head and his fear again.

He squeezed his eyes tighter and rubbed them. He just wanted one night of fucking peace. Was that too much to ask for? “God fucking Dammit,” he said aloud. Cassie stirred at the sound of his voice. She mumbled something in her sleep as she turned and rested her head on his bare chest.

Two nights ago this would have been heaven to him. Two nights ago he would have wrapped his long arms around her petite frame and pulled her closer and drifted off to sleep with the scent of her hair filling his nostrils.

But tonight…he wanted to push her away. He wanted to grab his keys, get in his car and drive as far away from her—from _them_ —as the road could take him. _You’re a goddamn coward,_ his mind scolded him. _You don’t deserve her._ Normally he would shake these thoughts away or replace them with happier ones; but even he couldn’t ignore the truth of them.

He was a coward. He had loved Cassie long before she had even given herself to him. Before he knew what it was like to have those limbs wrap around him as he drove himself deeper into her; before she had ever placed those soft lips on his, he was hers. Whenever he had any down time, she was a welcome distraction from his thoughts. He anxiously watched his DM’s on Twitter hoping for just one message from her. When they talked on the phone he often found himself getting lost in that southern American accent of hers.

And that infectious laughter of hers! Tom could remember nearly falling for her the first time he heard that adorable tittering laugh leave her lips a year ago at a crowded party. The first time he saw her standing there in a light blue dress that looked as if it was painted on by God himself he had to know her. Once he knew her he had to have her. Yet now that he had her he could feel himself pulling away.

He truly did not deserve her. _“You’re going to hurt her.”_ Chris Hemsworth’s voice rang in his head. He didn’t bother shaking this thought away either. Chris was right. Tom had tried to change—he really did—but his old compulsions were stronger than his desire to change. Love was never a foreign concept to him but giving in to it or admitting it aloud was.

The first girl he fell in love with was his college sweetheart, Briony. They were young—only eighteen—and very, very foolish. She was tall and slender but she had legs for miles. She was so beautiful with her wavy strawberry blonde hair and blue eyes. She came from a strict, overprotective family—she was their only child—and, despite her often prim attitude, she was usually a lot of fun. For instance, she had a penchant for public sex—which the young and sexually eager Tom absolutely loved. They hardly ever made love in a bed and, if they did, it never belonged to either of them.

Yet, they also fought too often and usually over trivial matters. For example, if they wanted to take in a film, they would spend the entire day bickering over which movie to see and at what time (did they feel like a light morning comedy or a heavy drama in the late afternoon or were they in the mood for a horror to while away the evening); whether they wanted to see it alone or with their friends and which friends would they ask (“we can make out in the back if we saw it alone” “yes but I promised Gillian I would hang out with her all week and today is the only day she’s free”); then they would fight over whether they would get something to eat before or after the film and whose car they would take (they always ended up taking hers because she refused to ride around the city in his “death trap” of a car).

When they weren’t fighting over petty matters it was then over their other associations. She hated his friends (she called them childish and arrogant bastards and even Tom had to admit they kind of were but he had known them for years and didn’t desire to spend time in investing in new ones); and he severely hated her mother and even once called her a “cackling old hag of a woman” to a close friend in private. He only pitied her mother once when she had broken her leg after she slipped on the wet floor in the market but his pity subsided when he and Briony visited her in the hospital and she proceeded to insult his attire, curly hair, and the choice in flowers that he brought her. (No matter how hard he tried he would never be good enough for “her Briony”).

The next most common cause for their fights was over personality flaws. He found her incessant need to have every aspect of her life perfectly organized irksome, to say the least; and she thought his sense of humor was too vulgar for her taste (too many of his “jokes” involved harsh swears and the word “cunt” or “twat” and they were _always_ dirty) and she would often make faces or sly comments about them whenever they were out and he felt the need to be “funny.” Eventually, he got so annoyed at her constant silencing him that he called her an “uptight bitch” in anger—which he immediately regretted. She, of course, got upset and they fought and broke up. A week later, they happened upon each other at a campus party and proceeded to (uncomfortably) make up in the back seat of his car.

A month later they broke up again because he had missed one too many dinner dates due to play rehearsals and because he had spent too many nights out with his cast mates that had him drunkenly crawling into her bed at the wee hours of the morning. She called him selfish and immature to which he gleefully responded: “I’m fucking eighteen, Bri! I’m supposed to be immature!” She kicked him out and didn’t so much as call him for the rest of the month. Then one day while he was studying for an exam she knocked on his door; her eyes were filled with tears and she was seeking comfort after a nasty fight between her and her mother. After about ten minutes of him quietly allowing her to vent, she kissed him and they fucked on the floor of his dorm.

Their relationship continued in this way. When things were going great between them—when they laughed and fucked more than screamed cursed at each other—he enjoyed being with her. He thought about her constantly and longed to spend every second he possibly could with her. One afternoon when he and Briony were dressing after a particular adventurous marathon of sex in his dorm she kissed him and told him that she loved him. Although Tom reciprocated the feelings, he couldn’t seem to bring himself to actually _say_ the words aloud to her. Instead, he nervously blurted out “Thank you” while zipping up his pants.

Needless to say, Briony was not pleased. “‘Thank you?’ I tell you I love you and you _thank_ me? You thank people for socks and ties not professions of love!” He stumbled out a weak explanation but it wasn’t sufficient enough to appease her anger and she stormed out of his dorm and his life.

The second woman he had ever loved was Kat. He didn’t think he would fall for her as hard as he did. What they had started out as a fling. They had flirted casually a few times on set but things never went past that. At least that was until she came into his trailer one day during a break and sat next to him. She said she just wanted to talk but they were barely five minutes into the conversation before she grabbed his face and kissed him.

“I’m sorry,” she said after she pulled away from him. “I…I just wanted to do that for so long.” Tom didn’t reply; he was still in a daze from having her full lips on his and her warm, voluptuous body pressed against his own. “Yeah…I’m gonna just see my way out now. Do me a favor and don’t mention this again, please?”

She was barely a foot from the door before Tom finally came to his senses and said, “Wait!” He marched up to her, pulled her close, and placed a kiss on her so powerful that it made her seem to melt in his arms. He fucked her hard and fast on the floor before they both returned to the set.

This had been the nature of their relationship. They would take advantage of any free time they had while on set and would run off to one of their trailers and fuck the time away. He used to laugh to himself whenever an interviewer would ask if he had ever fucked in the Loki costume and he would reply that he hadn’t. He wished they knew how many times he wore that costume as he buried his face in Kat’s beautiful breasts while she gripped the horns of the helmet as she rode him; or how cute she looked with the helmet on—her face near tears—as he mercilessly fucked her hard from behind.

Because he didn’t have a PR team calculating his image then, he didn’t have to hide their relationship. Everyone knew—the director, co-stars, make up and costume designers, hell even the food services people—but no one cared. Like Tom, they assumed it was another on set romance and it would die out as fast as it was lit.

Except, Tom’s goddamn heart seemed intent on complicating matters. He realized his feelings for her one night after they had returned to her apartment from dinner with Hemsworth and his girlfriend at the time. Tom was sitting in bed reading a book when Kat walked into the room in her robe. “Have I ever told you how sexy you look in terrycloth?”

“You should see me out of it.”

“Ooh.” He patted the empty spot next to him on the bed. “Well, why don’t you come over here so I can get you out of that god-awful robe?”

She giggled and shook her head. “Sorry but I have to shower first. I still have cigar smoke in my hair.” She grabbed an end of her long black hair and brought it to her nose. She scrunched her face as she inhaled the cigar scent that still lingered in it. “Blech! How many times did we ask that asshole to put out his cigar?”

Tom rose from the bed and walked toward her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and said in her ear, “Too many.” He kissed her neck and she leaned back into him.

“Seriously, Tom. Let me wash up and then—”

“We can do the sex?”

Kat laughed again. “Yes. Then we can do the sex.”

He sat back on the bed and, as he watched her pull open one of her dresser drawers and pull out a tank and a pair of shorts, it hit him. That familiar constriction in his chest mixed with his increasingly shallow breath warned him that he loved her. The revelation made him go numb. How could watching her do a mundane task that she must’ve done hundreds of times before be the switch that turned his insides into a frenzy of emotions? He wanted to kiss her but he also wanted to scream. He wanted to hold her tight and make love to her but he also wanted to flee. He could almost hear his heart thump in his chest; his knee bounced in agitation; his palms began to sweat; and his throat felt as if it were closing up.

"You okay, Tom? You look a little pale. Are you sick?" Kat gently tapped the back of her hand against his forehead. "You don’t feel warm."

He nodded weakly. “I’m fine. I was just…thinking about something.”

“You sure?” He gave her a weak smile and another nod of his head. “Okay. I’ll be out in twenty.” She took another whiff of her hair and grimaced. “Ugh! Maybe thirty minutes.” She kissed his forehead and disappeared into the bathroom.

The walls of the room felt as if they were about to cave in. He had decided that a quick run would help him clear his mind. He changed into a pair of sweats that he had left there from the last time he slept over, grabbed his keys and cell, and walked out the door.

The run didn’t settle his mind in the least. Instead, it exacerbated his nagging fear. He was only supposed to go for a short run around the block. Fifteen minutes at the most. But soon thirty minutes had passed; then a hour. His phone vibrated repeatedly. No doubt it was Kat wondering where he was. He should have answered it. He should have assuaged her worried mind by telling her where he was. Instead he let it ring.

When he finally returned to Kat’s apartment building, his fear convinced him that it would be easier to walk past the front entrance and head for the parking garage where his car was parked. _You already have the keys with you_ , it said. _Just go home and take a day to clear your head._

But one day turned into a week; and one week into two. When he happened to randomly run into her she greeted him with a firm slap across the face. He tried to apologize and explain but his words came out in mumbles and broken sentences. It didn’t matter anyway. Kat didn’t want to hear whatever excuse he could come up with. She called him a “selfish asshole” before storming away. He wanted to call after her or chase her down but decided against both actions. His heart ached as he watched her disappear into the crowd.

Tom sighed as he thought about Kat. He wiped away a tear that hung in the corner of his eye. Kat didn’t deserve the way he treated her. She didn’t deserve to be tossed aside like some tacky old Christmas sweater that he had grown out of. Hemsworth had told him recently that she was seeing someone else and, even though he didn’t know the guy, he knew she was happy and that he would treat her well. Other men—men who weren’t a selfish coward like he was—knew how to appreciate what they have.

Tom let out another heavy sigh and tried to blink away the newly forming tears in his eyes to no avail. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and stared at the ceiling. He wished he could undo his past mistakes. He wished he could have loved Briony and Kat wholly and properly. He wished he could do the same for Cassie.

Cassie began to stir at his chest. He tore his eyes from the white painted, popcorn styled ceiling to look at her. She shook her head gently before going still again. A few moments later she began to gently snore. He smiled at the feeling of her warm breath against the thin layer of hairs on his chest. As usual, she was wearing her silk bonnet over her hair but a stray reddish brown curl peaked out from under it. He instantly captured the lock and nimbly twirled it between his long fingers.

He wanted to close his eyes, lean in to her warmth and drift off to sleep like he had done countless times in the last four months; but he knew he wouldn’t be able to. Not with the constant turmoil that raged inside him. He knew there was only one way to silence it.

He looked down at Cassie. He smiled as her eyes moved rapidly behind her closed lids causing them to flutter. He closed his eyes and focused on the sound of her gentle snores blending in with the muffled bustle of city life outside. He had to cherish this quiet moment of being here with her in their bed for one more night as much as he possibly could. For the morning would bring chaos.


	9. Chapter 9

The morning started as any other. Tom awoke to the smell of breakfast cooking. He groggily reached for his phone to read the time. It was a little after nine thirty in the morning. Normally he would be wide awake and had already gone for his morning jog and the fact that he overslept slightly irked him. He absolutely hated wasting time but he had to admit the extra hours made him feel a bit more refreshed than he had in the past few days. Besides, he didn’t even go to sleep until a little after two (or was it three?) in the morning.

He shuffled to the bathroom and splashed some cold water on his face to fully shock himself awake. He stared at himself in the mirror—cold water was still dripping off the tip of his nose—and debated on whether he should do what he decided needed to be done. Chris was right. A leopard can’t change its spots. Sure Tom had _wanted_ to and, for a while, had tried to be the man that Cassie deserved but the sad, painful truth was that he could never be that guy. He would only end up inadvertently hurting her like he did with Briony; or running away like he did with Kat; or growing bored and listless like he had with countless others. The kind thing—the right thing—would be to end it now. Before both he and Cassie fell even deeper into each other. Better to hurt a little now than a lot later, right?

There was a soft knock on the door. “Tom? You all right?” The sound of Cassie’s muffled voice made his chest begin to ache.

“Ye-yeah,” his voice croaked. He cleared his throat and added, “I’ll be out in a minute.” He could hear Cassie’s feet on the hardwood floor as she walked away. Tom took one last look at himself in the mirror before taking a deep breath and exiting the bathroom.

Tom walked into the dining area where Cassie was shoveling pancakes onto his plate. He took another breath. If he was going to do this, he had to do it quickly. _Just rip the fucking band-aid off,_ he told himself. “Uh,” he cleared his throat again, “Cassie, I have to talk to you about something.”

“Okay, but can it wait until after breakfast? I made your favorite. Plus,” she walked into the kitchen and returned shortly with a platter of sausages, “turkey sausage!” She ran the platter under her nose and inhaled the scent. “Yu-u-um,” she said in a sing song voice while placing it on the table.

Tom fought the urge to smile at her. He always thought she was prettiest in the morning. Especially when she shuffled about either rubbing sleep from her eyes or scratching at the hair resting under her silken bonnet; her pajamas would be hanging off her body—her tops slipping off one shoulder; her bottoms twisted about her narrow hips—as if they were exhausted from keeping up with her tossing and stretching about in her sleep. This morning her curls were pulled into a loose ponytail. He guessed that she must have tossed her bonnet in the laundry after her shower. She wore an oversized shirt that hid the shorts she wore underneath. Like him, she was a morning person—except her mornings started hours after his (no five a.m. alarms for her)—but she had no qualms about lounging around the house in her pajamas for majority of the morning (and the afternoon). Spending the mornings with her had been one of his favorite things about living with her. Seeing her so relaxed and comfortable seemed to have the same affect on him. Normally his mind would run a thousand miles an hour and would be packed either with tasks he hadn’t completed the day before or had yet to be done. But one look at her—fresh faced and seemingly carefree—would ease his mind and tempt him laze around the apartment with her.

Tom shook the thoughts away. He shouldn’t be thinking about this. It was distracting him from the task at hand. He opened his mouth to speak again but Cassie grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the table. He couldn’t repeat those words that he had spent most of the night mentally rehearsing over and over again while her soft petite hand was wrapped in his. He couldn’t say it while he smelled the faint scent of her vanilla body wash wafting off her skin; or while eyeing that supple brown flesh of her upper thigh peeking out from under her shirt while she leaned over the table and prepared their plates. And he definitely couldn’t say it while his mind ran rampant with images of all the nasty things he wanted to do her on this table as her humble chest rose and fell with each breath she took while she innocently nibbled at the sausage in her hand.

“What’s wrong?”

Tom gently shook his head. “Nothing,” he lied.

“No, it’s something. You look paler than usual. Are you sick?” She gently placed the back of her hand against his forehead. “You’re a little damp but I don’t think you have a fever or anything. Is it your stomach?”

He shook his head again and clasped her hands in his. He brought them to his lips and kissed them. “Cassie, I…”  He was surprised at how the words hung in his throat. “Uh, I…I…”

“You…what?”

He suddenly wanted to kiss her; to taste her; to drape her across the table and make love to her. He wanted to feel her nails rake down his back and hear his name fall from her lips as he lost himself in her one last time. Instead he whispered, “I can’t do this.”

Cassie raised a brow in confusion. “Do what, babe?”

He dropped her hands and rose from his seat. He firmly gripped the top of the seat. “This.” The word choked on their way out.

“‘This’? You mean breakfast?”

Tom looked away; his eyes fell on the edge of the table. “Us. I can’t do…us.”

Cassie held her stomach. She felt as if she was going to throw up. “Wh-what do you mean you ‘can’t do us’?”

“I-I just think we’re moving too fast.”

She grabbed the other end of his chair. She felt as if the floor had given way beneath her and she was falling thousands of feet. “What? But-but _you_ said you loved _me_.”

Tom turned his back to her. He swallowed hard to calm the uneasiness that had begun to grow in the pit of his stomach. “It was in the heat of the moment.” He felt a sour taste in his mouth the moment he spoke the words. This went so much simpler in his head last night when he didn’t have to hear the pain and confusion in her voice or look into those sad eyes.

“Bullshit. Look me in my eyes, Thomas, and tell me you don’t love me.”

Tom didn’t move. “I don’t love you, Cas,” he repeated the lie.

She marched up to him and brought his face down to hers. She stared into his eyes, “Say it again. Say you don’t love me. Say the last four months didn’t mean anything.”

His resolve began to waver. He grasped her hands. “I…I…”

“Say it. Say it so I can call you a goddamn liar.”

He couldn’t repeat it while looking into those watery eyes so he closed his. “I…I don’t…,” the quiver in his voice was noticeable as he tried to stumble out the words. “I don’t love you, Cas.”

She dropped her hands from his face and immediately he missed their warmth. He braced himself for a slap or for the sound of her screaming and swearing at him. Instead she softly said, “You goddamn liar.” He opened his eyes and saw that she had turned her back to him. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“I swear I’m not trying to hurt you, Cas.”

She turned to him. “Then don’t. Don’t say it again.” She grabbed his face again and kissed him. “We’ll…just forget you ever said it, okay?” She kissed him again.

In spite of himself, Tom found himself lost in the feeling of her lips against his. He wrapped an arm around her lower back and pulled her closer. He sucked on her bottom lip causing her to moan against his mouth. He wanted nothing more than to throw her to the floor and kiss out an apology on every inch of her flesh. He wanted to groan the words “I’m sorry” in her ear as he repeatedly stroked in and out of her. Yet he knew that sex wouldn’t appease the ever present fear that resided in him. They would only end up back here in another four months or maybe a year from now or ten or twenty. Sex and time would only further complicate things. He had to end it right here and now.

It would hurt like hell—it always did—but he was resilient. He would be a little more broken but he was certain he would bounce back. And Cassie… Well, she would hate him no doubt and, as much as that fact killed him, he hoped that eventually she would understand that ending this was for the best. Maybe she wouldn’t see that today or tomorrow or a month from now but one day she would. One day while she’s laying in a better man’s arms—a man who wasn’t constantly torn between wanting to fuck her or flee from her—Tom would be a distant memory. He would be nothing more than a footnote in her life.

He pulled his lips from hers and cupped her face in her hands. “Cassie…”

“Don’t say it, Tom.”

“Cassie, I…”

“Don’t you fucking say it, Tom. We’re gonna forget it, remember?”

He kissed her again to silence her. He looked into her eyes. “I don’t love you, Cassie.” A part of him felt as if it had broken off and was swallowed by some abyss within him. He again braced himself to be hit or yelled at. He waited the slew of “motherfuckers” and “sons of bitches” to come hurling at him. He expected them. He deserved them. Instead, her response came softly, at first, in the sound of hiccups. Then came the tears streaming out of the corners of her eyes. Her body shook as she cried. He hated seeing her cry. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her like he would have done to comfort his mother or his sisters. However, the action only upset her more. She pushed him away.

“You’re a lying son of a bitch.”

“Cassie, I—”

“‘I was yours the moment I saw you at Rosenberg’s party.’ Remember that?” Tom looked away. “Yeah. That’s right, Thomas. Look away. You know you got a lot of fucking nerve to say that shit to me and then take it back two months later.” Tom reached out to grab her again but she backed up from him. “Don’t you _dare_ touch me!”

“Cassie, just let me explain.”

“Why? So you can lie to me again?”

“Cas, I swear I’m only trying to do what’s right.”

“Really? For who?”

“For both of us!”

Cassie scoffed and sniffled as she wiped her eyes. “No, Thomas. You do what’s right for _you_. You’re selfish and you’re a coward and I…,” her bottom lip quivered as she tried to fight back the words. “Why does this keep happening to me?” She shook her head as fresh tears began to fall down her face. “Why do I keep falling in love with people who will _never_ feel the same way?”

She covered her face with her hands and sobbed. Again, Tom wrapped his arms around her. He expected her to push him away again but she didn’t. Instead she leaned into his warmth and cried harder. She almost forgot herself. She almost forgot that _he_ was the reason why she was crying in the first place. When she remembered, she pushed him away again. She wanted to slap him until her palms hurt. She wanted to beat at him until his chest was red but she didn’t have the energy to do so.

She gave another scoffing laugh. “I was wrong. Charlie was wrong. You know who was right?” Tom looked at his feet but didn’t reply. “Odessa.” Tom’s head shot back up; his brow furrowed in confusion. Cassie didn’t bother to explain. She grabbed her keys from the bowl on the coffee table and headed for the door.

“Cassie, don’t-don’t leave. Please.”

“Why? Isn’t this what you want, Tom?”

“I don’t…I don’t want you to leave. Not like this.”

“See? There’s that selfishness again. You don’t want me to stay but you also don’t want me to leave. You can’t have it both ways.” Cassie grabbed her purse off the hanger by the door and slipped on her flats that sat underneath it. “I’m not gonna just sit around and let you push and pull me like I’m some…some goddamn yo-yo.”

“No, Cas, it’s not like that. Please let me explain.”

“Ain’t shit left to say.” She opened the door. “I’ll send for my things.”

The sound of the door slamming echoed throughout the apartment. A part of him wanted to go after her; to chase her down and apologize until his tongue fell out or until his mouth dried up. The other part of him kept his feet firmly planted where he was. His eyes were still locked on the door. His head throbbed. He sat back in the dining chair and stared at the now cold plate of food in front of him. “Goddammit!” In one swoop he tossed the food onto the floor causing most of the plates and glasses to break or shatter. He put his face in his palms and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “Goddammit,” he called out again as he rubbed the lids of his eyes that stung with unshed tears.

He looked around the apartment that suddenly felt larger and colder. “God…dammit,” he said for the third time, this time barely above a whisper, before giving in and letting his tears finally fall.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next one (or two depends on the length) will deal with Cassie's backstory.

Cassie was only five when she lost her parents. They were going out for their third wedding anniversary dinner and left her in the care of Sister Hayes from their church. They were on their way back home when a drunk driver blindsided them and ran them off the road. Her father was killed instantly. Her mother died three days later in the hospital. Cassie could still remember awaking to the sound of the phone ringing and Sister Hayes yelling out a surprised, “What?˝ before adding in a whisper, “What am I supposed to tell this baby when she asks where her parents are?”

Cassie was too young to fully understand the gravity of the situation. Death had never hit her like that before. Death seemed to happen long before she was born or to some distant relative that she barely remembered meeting. She could recognize her father’s long dead parents from old photos that he kept. She knew she shared her middle name with her mother’s sister who died from cancer six months before she was born. She could also vaguely remember meeting a Great Uncle Stanley who had a silver mustache that scratched her face when he kissed her and liver spots dotted along the back of his light brown hand and he smelled of peppermints and old oil but she never actually knew these people. She got second hand sadness from watching her parents but couldn’t feel it personally. These people were shadows on a wall to her.

But her parents… Well, they were solid and real. They were flesh and blood just like her. They had distinct voices—her dad’s was very deep and carried a thick Cajun accent; her mother’s was light and every word sounded like a song when she spoke; and their own scents—her mother smelled like lilacs; her father smelled like outdoors (she could never explain it better than that). And in a moment they were gone. Dissolved into shadows like her grandparents and aunt. The only way they could come alive again was from the memories that she held onto.

Her father’s name was Michael. He was bald but in his youth his hair was jet black and covered in unruly curls. His skin was the color of onyx and he was very tall and muscular. Whenever he stood up she would have to lean far back in hopes of seeing his face again. And whenever he spoke it sounded as if God himself was talking. For those that didn’t know him, they would mistake his deep voice and his height and build and think he was stern. Although he was strong—he could lift Cassie and her mother up in one arm without strain—but the truth was that he was sweet and gentle. He was also very shy. He only spoke when he had something to say or when he was surrounded by people he trusted and when he did it was hell getting him to shut up. He also had a great sense of humor. His laugh was loud and boisterous. Whenever he laughed it was hard for anyone within earshot to not get infected and join in. Even her mother couldn’t resist sharing her lilting chuckle.

Her mother’s name was Diana. Her skin was chestnut brown and her hair was thick and reddish brown. She was barely five feet and three inches and looked like a doll whenever she stood next to her husband. Cassie always thought her mother looked twice as beautiful when she smiled—which was such a rare sight. Unlike her father, Cassie’s mother had a more serious nature. She wasn’t stern or strict but her seriousness was born out of concern. Cassie could never remember a time when she didn’t see her mother reading the paper or watching the news without looking as if she would burst into tears at any moment. Cassie’s father called her his “little bleeding heart.” “If she could,” he had said jokingly to a friend once, “she would adopt every child in the world. That would be the only way she knew they were being taken care of.”

They were such opposites in every way and, because of this, they argued often and about everything. They argued over who would drive during long trips (her father); who controlled the television (her mother); and who was the better cook (no one could barbeque like Cassie’s father but her mother could cook like a pro). The only thing they could agree on was their love for their daughter.

Cassie was all but spoiled growing up. Her parents weren’t rich but they made sure that her needs were always met and, if funds permitted, every now and again a want was fulfilled. Those first five years of her life were the happiest and when it suddenly ended—when some strange man in a white truck going eighty miles per hour in a forty zone slammed into the side of her father’s car and sent it careening into a telephone pole—it felt as if someone had dimmed the lights on her happy little world.

She didn’t fully remember the funerals. She remembered strangers hugging her and crying. She remembered wearing a lot of black and having too many strangers in her house. And there was food—so much food!—constantly arriving at her door in the hands of more weeping strangers. She remembered sharing a bed with her grandmother for two weeks and awaking almost nightly to the sound of the old woman’s hiccupping sobs. She remembered they buried her father one week and her mother the next. It rained both times—the mud from her father’s funeral was still caked on her Mary Jane’s a week later for her mother’s. She remembered seeing her grandmother argue with a fat white man in a suit about her for almost a month (or was it two?) before they packed up her things and drove the four and a half hours up from Thibodaux to Shreveport. She remembered new strangers with different accents from the ones she was used to marveling about how strong she was for a little girl. Finally, she remembered after months of praying to God to give her back her parents, of promising to behave, of begging him to return her happiness she cried inconsolably.

God, it seemed, had gone deaf to her cries and only Sadness was willing to comfort her.

However, there were very few shining spots of solace during this time in her life. One was, of course, her grandmother. For the first few months that Cassie stayed with her grandmother they were nearly inseparable. They shared a bed and her grandmother would often cuddle her while they slept at night, read to her most nights before bed, and give her sweet kisses on the cheek as she hugged her. She kept Cassie warm, fed, and, most importantly, safe. Cassie was grateful for it. Her grandmother had reminded her that life still went on.

Another solace was her cousins: Desiree, Curtis and Sean. They had been living with their grandmother since their mother, Patricia, had passed away. Even though they were young, they understood the pain of losing a parent and in their own ways tried to help her cope. Cassie was a quiet child. For the first couple of months that she lived with her grandmother she hardly spoke; whenever she did manage to let out a word or two it usually came out in a whisper. The only person who seemed to be able to get out more than a two word reply was Desiree and even then it would only be for a minute before Cassie fell back into her quiet self. Whenever this happened, her cousins would do small things like include her in their activities. She would dress up and perform plays with Desiree. Curtis and Sean would let her play video games with them or help them paint their treehouse. Because of this, Cassie found herself coming out of her shell. She began to talk and smile more at home—although she still remained somewhat quiet and reserved in public—and within a year she had returned to some semblance of her usual happy self.

The third comfort came in the form of a sandy brown skinned little girl with messy pigtails and two missing front teeth. Cassie’s grandmother worked as a nurse at an old folk’s home during the day and, since she was still too young to attend elementary school, Cassie would spend hours at a local daycare center ran by a member of her grandmother’s church, Mrs. Clover. Cassie was sitting quietly in a corner (like she usually did) building something out of a hodgepodge of play-doh. It was the little sandy brown skinned girl’s first day at the center. When her mother dropped her off she immediately headed straight for where Cassie was—her little Mary Jane’s clacked across the hardwood floor as she moved—and sat next to her. She grabbed a handful of the play-doh and began talking to Cassie as if they were old friends.

“I like your dress. It’s pretty like your bow. Do you like my dress? It’s new. My abuela bought it for me. What are you making? A bear? I like bears! I’m gonna make one too. My name’s Daya. What’s yours?” Cassie looked down and stuttered out her name. “Oh that’s a pretty name! Look, Cassie! My bear’s bigger than yours. It’s gonna eat it. Rawr!” Cassie—who hadn’t so much as cracked a tiny, polite smile since she started attending the daycare—couldn’t help but to laugh at the sight of Daya pretending to make her multi-colored bear “eat” hers. The laugh was so loud that it caught the ear of Mrs. Clover and her workers who marveled at the sound of it. From then on the two were inseparable.

Because of her familial support and her newfound friend, Cassie’s life had seemed to return to normal. She still missed her parents terribly (sometimes she found herself crying about their deaths as if it had just happened) but, for the most part, she was relatively happy. Her family wasn’t rich but their needs were often met. Her grandmother tried her hardest to provide for them but she was nearing fifty and couldn’t work as long or often as she needed to due to her bad back and feet. To make matters worse, when Cassie was eight her grandmother began seriously ill and couldn’t work for months. Luckily her Uncle Johnny, who had just recently separated from his third wife, moved back home from Minnesota to help take care of her grandmother; unfortunately, he didn’t arrive alone. He came with his sons, Freddie and Luke who were both in their teens at the time.

They were twelve and fifteen respectively and had an insatiable appetite. There was never enough food in the house to feed them let alone anyone else. (There were many a night when Cassie had gone to bed hungry clutching onto her stomach and ignoring the growling noise it made). Then there was the issue of space. The small, three bedroom house was already crowded before Johnny and his sons moved in. Everyone was practically living on top of each other; and it was hell getting a hot—or even lukewarm—shower in the morning before school or work. Johnny and their grandmother each had their own bedroom while the children shared a room. The boys shared a bunk bed (two to a bed) and the girls shared a twin bed. Cassie was barely able to have a good night’s sleep because Freddie snored so loudly. (It was months before she and Desiree finally stole a couple of earplugs from the local dollar store to help remedy this problem).

The male cousins seemed to bond instantly much to Cassie’s and Desiree’s chagrin. For months their days were tormented by the boy’s mischief. It seemed they acted on whatever devilment had popped into their heads: stealing the girl’s food and eating it in front of them only to spit out the half-chewed food back onto their plates; sitting on the girl’s backs and giving them painful wedgies; and more than once they would pass gas and either lock the girls in the room with it or hold them down so they couldn’t run away. One day, Luke and Sean had caught Cassie and Desiree in a headlock and laughed loudly as they struggled to free themselves. Cassie, having had enough of the torture, dug her nails into Luke’s arms causing him to scream out in pain. When he released her, she punched him as hard as she could right in the stomach.

The hit had taken him by surprise and he was bent over clutching his stomach and sucking in large gasps of breath. Cassie was proud of herself until he looked back at her with a look in his eye that warned her to run for her life. Just as she was about to run, Luke shot up and gave a hoarse laugh while saying, “Not bad, Lil Bit. Not bad.”He held up his open palms. “Now try to hit my hands.” Cassie was wary at first but after some more prodding from both Luke and Sean she gave an attempt. The hit barely registered and Luke grabbed her hand and showed her how to make a proper fist before encouraging her to try again. From then on Luke acted as her boxing coach. He showed her the proper way to throw an effective punch, where to hit and subdue an opponent, and how to use her size and speed to her advantage. Although Cassie wasn’t really one for confrontation, she would unfortunately have to use these lessons multiple times while growing up. Although her short stature and nearly rail thin frame often made her a perfect target for bullies, only the extremely foolish ones would dare pick a fight with her. In her pre-teen years all Cassie had to do was run home and tell her cousins about the idiot who picked on her and that poor child would be confronted the next day by four very unhappy boys who were itching to put them in their place.

The following year, Johnny’s daughter, Odessa, came to live with him after her mother was arrested for credit card fraud. Cassie and Desiree were more than happy to have another girl around the house. However, Odessa, being four to five years their senior seldomly wanted to be bothered with them. Yet, in spite of this, Cassie found herself enthralled with her older cousin. Odessa was only fourteen but she was already a great beauty. She had long jet black hair that she loved to wear down so that people could fawn over its length. Her large eyes were dark brown and her skin was a light yellowish-brown color. Sometimes Cassie and Desiree would sit for hours and watch her apply her make up in front of their grandmother’s large vanity.

One day Odessa was in one her good moods (a rarity for the constantly temperamental teen) and finally agreed to do her younger cousins’ make up. Cassie patiently sat and watched as Desiree picked out what colors she like from Odessa’s extensive palette that sat on the vanity. She listened intently as Odessa gave Desiree tips on what colors worked best with her amber skin tone. When her makeover was finally done Desiree put her hands on her hips and did a model strut across the bedroom. “What do you think?”

“You’re so pretty, Desi,” Cassie exclaimed. “Do me, Odessa!” She gleefully sat in the chair in front of Odessa and scanned the myriad of colors that sat before her. “Hmm…I want…this one,” she said beaming as she pointed to a pink color (her favorite).

Odessa gave a loud laugh and began to pack up her make up. “Nah. I think I’m done.”

“But…,” Cassie said with a frown as she watched her older cousin toss her make up into a large bag, “you did Desi’s.”

“Yep,” Odessa replied.

“But…,” Cassie murmured as she fought back tears that were welling up in her eyes.

Odessa sucked her teeth. “Oh don’t start crying, girl! Dang! Listen, Cas, it’s nothing personal but do you realize how ridiculous you would look with pink eye shadow and lipstick on? Those are not made for your skin tone, sweetie.”

“Then just choose the ones that are made for her skin tone, Odessa,” Desiree chimed in with her arms folded across her chest.

Odessa let out another loud laugh. “Why? Look, Cassie, some girls have pretty skin like me and Desi and other girls… well, you understand, hon.” Cassie did understand unfortunately. Before her Uncle Johnny’s children had moved in Cassie never really had to think about the shade of her skin tone. Her grandmother had never shown preference over the different shades of her grandchildren. She had loved and treated them as equals; yet in the last year Cassie had discovered that dark skin was ugly and undesired.

The worst came from her cousin Freddie who, it seemed, never let a day go by without mentioning his sheer disgust with dark skinned girls. “You see that girl over there,” he had said one day while rudely pointing at a girl walking by. “I would never, never date her! I don’t want my kids coming out so dark they can’t be seen in the dark,” he laughed.

“Freddie,” Luke responded, “why you always shitting on dark girls like you ain’t black as fuck?”

“That’s different! My black is beautiful!”

Whenever Cassie would hear these comments she wished she could disappear within herself. She wished she could wrap herself into a cocoon and emerge with skin as pretty as Odessa’s or Desiree’s or Daya’s. A decade would past before she came to love (or at the least appreciate) her skin; but before that time came she spent years lamenting over her skin. She abhorred it. Once or twice she even tried to scrub it off of herself while in the shower—she even smiled when the irritated flesh turned red. She fought with her grandmother on many occasion about allowing her to buy skin lightener. Her grandmother would repeatedly shake her head “no” and remind her troubled granddaughter that both she and her skin were beautiful. Yet these comments often fell on deaf ears.

By the time she was in her early teens, Cassie had reverted back into her quiet self—during school she only talked to Daya and a couple of her other friends; outside of school she only talked to Desiree. Puberty did her no favors either. She was thirteen and still as thin as a stick. Every now and then she would ignore the taunts from her female classmates about her “boyish” figure and her “mosquito bites” sized breasts. She was so ashamed of her body that she would wear baggy clothes to school in order to hide; yet this only brought about suspicion amongst concerned teachers that she was maybe anorexic. (She wasn’t, of course. Cassie could eat all day every day and never get full). Boys hardly noticed her and if they did it was only so they could ask her to put in a good word about them to her cousin or friends.

The first boy who did pay attention to her was a kid named Jamir Reynolds. He was four years her senior and attended her grandmother’s church. Majority of the teenage girls at the church had a crush on him. He had light brown skin, green eyes, and dark brown hair that he kept cut into a fade. Cassie never bothered to get caught up in him like the other girls because she was sure she would never register on his radar. Yet one Sunday after service he sauntered up to her while she impatiently waited for her grandmother to finish talking to the pastor.

“Hey, you’re Sister Ellis’ granddaughter, right?” Cassie quietly nodded her head. “My name’s Jamir. What’s yours?” He extended his hand out for her to shake it. She went to shake his hand but lost balance of the books in her hand causing them to fall to the floor in loud thuds.

“Oh shit,” Cassie called out before remembering where she was and quickly covering her mouth. She looked in the direction of her grandmother to see if she had heard. She hadn’t (thankfully) and was still in a deep discussion with the pastor. Cassie fell to the floor and began picking up the books she dropped. Jamir followed suit.

“Here. Lemme get that for you.”

“Thank you,” she replied while still reaching for her grandmother’s Bible.

Jamir grabbed it first and handed to her. He looked into her eyes and gave her a sly smile and said, “Wow… You have really pretty eyes.”

“Th-thank you,” she stuttered out. She tried to suppress a giggle at the compliment.

“Ya know what? We should hang out sometime. What do you say?” Cassie wanted to squeal in excitement. First the compliment; now a potential date? She was in heaven.

She opened her mouth to accept but her grandmother’s voice cut her off. “Cassie! C’mere, girl! We gotta get home before them boys eat up all the dinner.”

“Coming, ma’dear,” Cassie called out while adjusting the replaced books in her arms. She quickly rose and briskly walked towards where her grandmother was waiting.

“It was good talking to you,” Jamir called after her. “I’ll see you next Sunday… Cassie.”

Once more Cassie’s grandmother interrupted her response. “Now, c’mon, child! We ain’t got all day.” Cassie nodded and followed her grandmother to the exit. Before she left she turned and gave a shy wave to Jamir who flashed a sweet smile in return. Cassie nearly floated to the car.

Once inside the car, however, her grandmother’s previously curt attitude was much softer. Every so often she would turn her focus from the road and glance at her granddaughter. Cassie was nothing short of beaming as she carelessly flipped the edges of her grandmother’s Bible while mentally replaying the way Jamir said her name. “Cassie,” her grandmother softly began, “I don’t want you talking to that boy again.”

The smile immediately fell from Cassie’s face. “What? Why?”

“That boy is no good.”

“You don’t even know him, ma’dear.”

“I know of his family. Them Reynolds ain’t nothing but trouble. Each and every one of them. Boys like that are after only one thing and it ain’t your mind, honey.” Cassie rolled her eyes and groaned. She was not in the mood to hear her grandmother’s abstinence speech for the hundredth time.

“Please, no, not this speech again!”

“I’m not trying to preach to you, Cassie. I’m just telling you what I know and I know that boy ain’t nothing but trouble. Stay away from him, now. Ya hear me talking to you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Cassie answered but her mind was far away from her grandmother and her warnings. She was thinking about the handsome boy with the cute smile who complimented her eyes. She could barely wait for next Sunday so she could see him again.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Cassie back story. I swear I'll get back to the main plotline. Bear with me please. :)

To say that Cassie’s grandmother hated Jamir would be a great understatement. She absolutely despised him. If she so much as caught Cassie staring in his direction during service or Wednesday night Bible study for too long or even standing too close to him during choir practice she would loudly clear her throat or (even worse) raise an index finger in the air and tip toe to wherever her granddaughter was and drag her away. Then after service Cassie would have to endure her grandmother’s long tirade about why Jamir Reynolds was “bad business” before ending with the repeated command to “stay away from that boy.”

Cassie had tried to obey her grandmother at first. If Jamir tried to talk to her after Bible study or shot a small smile in her direction she would mumble a weak excuse and hurriedly leave or simple ignore him. Yet these tactics had no affect on Jamir. He would use his youngest sister to pass Cassie notes with extra sentimental words on them or corner her after their Sunday school class let out just to tell her that he wasn’t giving up on her. His determination invoked her own. For the first time in her young life, Cassie felt a spark of rebellion grow in her. She would return Jamir her own sappy love letters via his sister who was too young to read them but old enough to grow tired of playing messenger. They continued to communicate like this for a couple of weeks until one day Jamir sent her a message that simply said: “Meet me by the back entrance in 15.”

The letter made a rush of excitement flood through Cassie’s young body. In order to meet him she would have to come up with some clever ruse that her grandmother wouldn’t see through. “I…uh, I have to pee,” she had told her. Okay. Maybe not so clever. Cassie quietly walked through the front double door entrance of the church to make like she was going to the bathroom that sat in the foyer. Once the doors closed behind her she gleefully tip toed (an unnecessary act since no one could see nor hear her) out the glass double doors and made her way to the back entrance.

She bit her bottom lip as she kicked at the dirt under her feet and gave no mind to the dust kicking up and covering her red painted toes that stuck out of her strappy heels. “You’ll ruin your shoes doing that.” Cassie jumped and turned in the direction of the sound of the voice.

“Jamir! You scared me!” He only smiled in reply. “So what did you want to meet me out here for?”

“I just wanted to talk to you.”

“You could’ve just sent me another letter.”

“Nah,” he walked towards her and enclosed the distance between them, “I wanted to hear your voice.” He tucked one of her curls that had fell out of her ponytail behind her ear before running his thumb along the side of her cheek.

Cassie was already near the point of swooning at the feeling of him being so close to her and she couldn’t resist shutting her eyes to the feeling of his thumb rubbing against her cheek. She felt like she was in a romance movie. _The only thing that could make this moment better,_ she thought, _would be if he kissed me._ As if he could read her thoughts, Jamir did just that.

Cassie always thought that her first kiss would be different. She had pictured a lover publicly professing his love for her before running into her arms and planting a passionate kiss on her lips. She knew that this expectation was influenced by the many romance movies she and Desiree ingested like food on a near daily basis and was, obviously, less than realistic. Yet she still preferred that fantasy to the reality she was currently experiencing.

First of all, Jamir had her back pressed against the wooden exterior of the church which caused the zipper on the back of her dress to dig into and slightly pinch her flesh. Second, her heels were digging into a small muddy spot on the ground and every time she tried to free herself her hells would sink deeper into it. Third, tiny bugs that had lived in the dirt she kicked up earlier were now flying and biting at her ankles causing them to itch. (Her skin would be irritated for days afterward). Fourth, and most importantly, the kiss Jamir had planted on her lips was so far removed from the romantic fantasy that constantly played in her mind.

She expected the kiss to be soft and maybe a little wet just like she had heard in the stories Daya and Desiree told her about. Jamir had his lips pressed so hard against hers that she could barely move them to kiss him back and she could feel him sucking at her lips as if he was trying to inhale her. To make matters worse, every now and then she would feel his tongue prod at her lips (forcing her to squeeze them tighter together). She wasn’t sure if he knew his tongue was doing that but she opted not to tell him for politeness sake.

She wasn’t sure if it was her unrealistic expectations or her inexperience that soured the kiss for her but she figured that with time and practice they would both get better or, at the very least, she would get used to it. She didn’t. Every Sunday morning and Wednesday night she would excuse herself and meet Jamir at the back entrance and suffer through his too hard, sometimes too wet, and _way_ too much suck kiss with the ever constant tongue prodding. After about a month of this she finally gave in and decided to ask for help from the two people she could trust: Daya and Desiree.

Daya burst out into a loud cackle causing Cassie to gently kick her off the bed. She landed on the floor with a thump but didn’t stop laughing (although she _did_ pause to let out an “ow” at the pain of hitting the floor). “It’s not funny, Daya,” Cassie said over the sound of her best friend’s effervescent laughter. “Tell her, Desi!” Desiree currently had her lips tucked between her teeth to avoid laughing; her eyes darted around Daya’s bedroom in an attempt to not meet her cousin’s eyes. “Goddammit, Desi,” Cassie said before grabbing a pillow from behind her and throwing it at her cousin causing Desiree to finally break into a laugh.

“I’m-I’m sorry, girl,” Daya panted out after a while, “but honestly that’s what you get! You’ve been hooking up with Jamir Reynolds for a month and ain’t told nobody!”

“I couldn’t tell anybody, D! If my grandmother had found out I was seeing this guy after she told me over and _over_ again not to she’d beat the black off my ass!”

“So why don’t you just tell him that his kisses ain’t hittin’?”

“Because…,” Cassie bit her lip as she tried to find a way to explain to her friend and cousin her insecurities. She didn’t want to just blurt out that she was surprised that Jamir took a liking to her in the first place and that if she brought up any complaints he would dump her and find a prettier girl to replace her. They wouldn’t understand. Boys were always vying for their attention and the only time they ever bother talking to Cassie was when they wanted her to pass along a message or two to them. They had options Cassie didn’t have. If things weren’t working out with a guy they could dismiss him and choose from the plethora of guys waiting to take his place. “I don’t want to seem rude,” Cassie finally said.

“Fuck that! I would not put up with no bad kissing! Believe that! Just tell that cabrón to step up his mouth game or else you’re gonna kick his ass to the curb.” She grabbed the bowl that was once filled with popcorn from the center of the bed and swore at its emptiness. She walked to her bedroom door and called for her little brother. “Bobby! Bobby!” The sound of the seven-year-old’s feet stomping against the hardwood floor of the hall was loud.

“What,” he asked annoyed.

“Haz me un favor.”

“No,” he quickly replied before storming away causing Cassie and Desiree to chuckle.

“You don’t even know what it is,” Daya called after her little brother.

“¡No me importa!”

“Oh, c’mon! I’ll give you a dollar! Bobby!” Daya sucked her teeth before adding, “He is such a little shit! Now I have to go all the way down stairs…”

Desiree and Cassie chuckled to themselves as Daya muttered to herself in Spanish about her little brother before exiting the room. “So what should I do,” Cassie asked bringing the attention back to their previous subject.

“I say take Daya’s advice just leave out the rudeness. Say something like, ‘Jamir, you know what I like doing? Kissing! You don’t what I don’t like doing? Kissing you!’ Or something like that. And then when he asks why just tell him what you told us.”

“How is that nicer, Desi?”

“Well…you didn’t call him an asshole.” Cassie sucked her teeth and slumped back into the pillows on the bed. Desiree climbed back on the bed and sat next to her. “You don’t have to say those exact words, Cas, okay? Just let him know you’re uncomfortable. He’ll listen.”

The following Sunday Cassie morning gently kicked against the baseboards of the wooden building while she tried to figure out what she would say to Jamir. “Cassie,” he called out. She smiled broadly when she saw him walking towards her. She really did like him; it was the kissing she hated.

“Hey, Jamir. Before we start I have to tell you something.” This was it. She still wasn’t sure what words were going to come out of her mouth but she feared that whatever she managed to say would upset him—even if she said it nicely—and that he would think that she was too much hassle and end everything. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth to speak but Jamir cut her off.

“Wait, me first. This last month has been amazing and last night I realized something… I like you, Cas. I mean, really, _really_ like you.”

She nearly bounced with joy at his words. “You do?”

“Yeah. So I decided to get you something.” He reached into his side pocket and pulled out a gold chain with a small red jewel on the end of it. Neither the chain nor the jewel in it was real and probably on set Jamir back by twenty bucks or so but Cassie loved the sentiment.

“Oh, Jamir,” she exclaimed as she held the necklace in her hand as if it was the most delicate item she ever held. (In some ways it was. The slightest pull on it would probably snap the thin chain in two). “It’s lovely!”

“Before I put it on you, though, I wanna ask you something: Will you be my girlfriend.”

Cassie didn’t bother to hide her excitement. She bounced on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Yes, Jamir! Yes! Yes!” She turned around and lifted her curls so he could clasp the jewelry around her neck. Once it was securely fastened she turned back around and wrapped her arms around Jamir’s neck again. “Thank you so much, boyfriend.” She loved the way the word sounded so much that she repeated it again before planting a soft kiss on his lips. True to his nature, Jamir grabbed the back of her head and turned her sweet kiss into his horrible one. However, Cassie ignored it. She was sure she could deal with a few bad kisses for the sake of her boyfriend. Relationships are all about compromise, right?

Their relationship continued in for the next two months in secrecy. Cassie still hadn’t reveal to her grandmother that she disobeyed her. Her grandmother’s temper was legendary and Cassie wasn’t ready to be on the receiving end of it just yet and Jamir never forced her to say anything about it. Cassie thought the secrecy of their relationship was exciting. Jamir was the Romeo to her Juliet sneaking forbidden kisses behind the protective and ever watchful eyes of her grandmother. Daya and Desiree acted as accomplices to their rendezvous. They would tell her grandmother that the trio were going to the movies or hanging out somewhere but actually Cassie would spend this time with Jamir.

One day, he invited her over to his house to watch a movie. They had done this many times before except usually his parents or a few of his siblings were home with them. This time they were alone. Jamir hadn’t directly brought up the issue of sex to her before but she knew from his actions—the way he ran his hand over her narrow hips or up her thigh and stopping mere inches from his desired designation whenever they kissed—that the topic had crossed his mind. He was so much older than her and more experienced and Cassie was certain that he had certain expectations of her and their relationship. But she was only thirteen. She was nowhere near ready for sex.

The thought hung in the back of her mind as they made out on his living room couch. She tried to calm herself and push it away (after all he hadn’t explicitly stated that he expected anything from her) but the moment his hand landed on her thigh and began its slow ascent upwards she freaked out. She pushed his away, sprung up from the couch and yelled out, “I’m not ready for sex!”

“What,” he asked; his face scrunched up in confusion.

“I’m sorry, Jamir. I really am. But we’ve only been dating a couple of months and anyway I’m thirteen! And I don’t think, I mean, I _know_ I’m not ready to do something that big yet.”

He chuckled and pulled her back down next on the couch. “You’re not ready for sex. Okay.” He licked his lips and leaned closer to her. “We can just keep kissing.” Cassie smile and exhaled a sigh of relief before they embraced each other and resumed kissing. After a few moments of making out they parted for a breather. When they did Jamir immediately began to unzip his pants.

“I-I thought you said w-we were gonna keep kissing.”

“We are. It’s just that now I want you to kiss me down there.”

Cassie’s eyes grew wide at the proposition. “Oh, I-I-I don’t know.”

“Listen, Cas. I’ll wait for you but you gotta give me something, ya know? I mean, I gave you that necklace to show you I care.”

Was that how it worked? Were sexual favors expected in exchange for trinkets? “Jamir, I don’t think I can—”

“Fine,” he said while readjusting himself. “I guess you don’t care about me at all.”

“That’s not true!”

“Then why won’t you prove it?”

Relationships are all about compromise, right? “Okay,” she softly replied. “I…,” she cleared her throat. “I don’t know what to do.”

A pleased smirk grew across his face. “It’s okay. I’ll teach you. Just breathe through your nose and watch your teeth.”

When he dropped her off at her grandmother’s house later that afternoon she ran straight to the bathroom and frantically scrubbed the taste of his semen off her tongue. She gargled with mouthwash before re-scrubbing her tongue. She did this on repeat for ten minutes. She only stopped when she heard a knock at the door.

“Cas? You okay,” her cousin Curtis asked through the door.

“Yeah,” she croaked out. “I’ll be out in a minute.” She heard him shuffle away from the door. She splashed some cold water on her face and blindly patted the counter for a towel to dry her face with. When she found it she dabbed her face dry before looking at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes fell to the necklace Jamir had given her. She traced her fingertips across it. The jewelry was no longer a symbol of her and Jamir’s budding relationship but now had become something else: a constant reminder that she owed him. She could never look at it again without hating it and herself.

A couple more months passed and Jamir was growing impatient with waiting around for Cassie to finally decide if she was ready to have sex or not. One day when they were making out on his parents couch he blurted out an annoyed, “So are we gonna fuck or not?”

Cassie angrily pushed him away from her and rose from the couch. “You said you would wait for me! No matter how long it took!”

“Yeah, but I thought you would be ready by now.” He jumped up from the couch and stood over her. “Shit,” he yelled and threw his arms up in the air. “We’ve been together four months, Cas.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “So that’s the limit? I fuck you in four months or else you’re done with me?”

“No, Cas. It’s just…,” he grabbed her shoulders and rubbed them. “I want to feel close to you.”

She rolled her eyes and knocked his hands off her shoulders. “You think I’m stupid or something? I’m already sucking your dick on a near daily basis! How much closer do you need to be?”

“What do you expect from me, Cas? I mean, I tried to resist you but you’re just so…damn sexy.”

Cassie furrowed her brow. The comment had caught her off guard. “W-what?”

“I can barely control myself around you.”

She sucked her teeth. “Don’t play games with me, Jamir, okay. I don’t find any of this shit funny.”

“I’m serious! Look… You’re all I think about, okay? Night and day. I mean… don’t want _just_ sex. I want to be intimate with you.”

“‘Intimate?’ Is that why you asked me if we were ‘gonna fuck or not?’ Intimacy?”

He rubbed the back of his head. “Okay. I admit that came out wrong. But I swear my feelings are real, Cas. I’ve never felt this way before. I think…,” he took a step closer to her and cupped her chin, “I mean, I _know_ …I love you, Cassie.”

Cassie’s heart began to beat faster. She had desperately wanted someone to say those words to her for so long. And now she had finally heard them. Yet she wasn’t sure she could trust the person saying them. “Don’t… don’t lie to me, Jamir,” the words came out wounded.

“I’m not. Of all the girls that I could’ve had, I chose you. You’re the one, Cas. I love you. Please let me prove it to you.”

Cassie looked up into his green eyes. She couldn’t really read them but she saw what she thought— _hoped_ —was sincerity. “Okay,” she whispered.

Cassie thought her first time would involve rose petals, chocolate covered strawberries and soft music. She thought it would happen maybe in a hotel room on prom night or maybe even in a shared marital bed wrapped in her husband’s arms. She never thought her first sexual experience would involve a twin sized bunk bed that her seventeen-year-old boyfriend shared with one of his younger brothers. Instead of rose petals she got a tacky bedspread of some sports star she never heard of. Instead of strawberries she got Jamir’s mother’s cat perched on the headboard and mewing as she watched them. Instead of soft music she had the sounds of traffic and distance construction work mixed in with Jamir’s monotonous panting in her ear.

He left his socks and shoes on and repeatedly planted those hard, horrible kisses of his on her lips. He didn’t wear a condom because he claimed that it hindered their intimacy. “Besides,” he had told her, “you’re a virgin and virgins can’t get pregnant on their first time.” Cassie naïvely believed him.

The act was neither fun nor enjoyable for her and, after it was done, she realized that she was right about not being ready for sex. She had tried to explain this to him a couple of days later. She told him that they could try again when she was a little older. Jamir’s response surprised and upset her. He laughed. Loudly and cruelly.

“If you think I’m gonna actually wait _years_ to fuck you again, you _must_ be smoking on some strong shit!” He laughed again. “You-you think your pussy so tight that it can lock Jamir Reynolds down? You think you got it like _that_?”

She felt her chest tighten and it was becoming increasingly harder to breathe. “But…,” she managed to choke out, “but I-I thought that—”

“Oh, I know what you thought. You thought you would come over here and demand shit from Jamir but you played yourself, didn’t you? Didn’t you?”

She wasn’t sure how long she would be able to fight back the tears that were begging to be shed. She looked at her feet. “You… said you loved me.”

He grabbed her shoulders and rubbed them. “Cassie, look at me,” he gently spoke. She looked back at him. He caressed her cheek and said, “I can tell the lunch lady I love her and she’d give me a free extra slice of pizza. It’s just words.” He turned and walked away from her.

 _It’s just words._ Those three words played like a never ending drumbeat in Cassie’s head. When she was safe at home later that afternoon she allowed herself to bawl out her emotions like a baby. Daya gently shushed her as Cassie rested her head on her shoulders but her friend couldn’t be soothed. Desiree angrily paced the floor of their bedroom and muttered to herself about how big of an asshole Jamir was.

“I’m gonna tell Sean and them to beat the shit outta him,” Desiree yelled while still pacing. “That’ll teach his ass!”

“And I wanna watch,” Daya chimed in. “I hope they rip his dick off!”

“Fucking right! Let that motherfucker know that if you mess with one of us you mess with all of us!”

Odessa, who was sitting at the head of the bed casually flipping through a magazine and occasionally rolling her eyes at the entire ordeal, murmured out, “That ain’t gon do shit.”

Desiree stopped pacing. “What you say?”

Odessa closed the magazine and tossed it on a nearby chair. “That ain’t gon do shit.”

“And why the hell not?”

“Because this whole situation is Cassie’s fault.”

“Wh-what,” Cassie asked through hiccupping sobs.

“How the fuck is it her fault, Odessa,” Daya asked. She exchanged a glance with Desiree before returning her focus back to Odessa.

Odessa licked her lips and slowly rose off the bed. “Look… I ain’t tryna stir the pot—”

“Yes the fuck you is or else you wouldn’t have said what you said,” Desiree angrily responded.

“Really I’m not, cuz. And I ain’t tryna be mean either but,” she looked at Cassie, “I’m just saying that all signs pointed to the fact that he was gaming you. I mean, first of all, no offense, Cas, but he was _way_ the fuck outta your league. You think a guy that looks like _that_ would seriously fall for a girl that looked like _you_? Let alone fall in love with you? No guy is gonna ever _really_ want you, Cas. They’ll fuck you sure but love you or some shit?” She made a face and shook her head before rising from her spot on the bed. “The sooner you realize that the less you have to deal with shit like this.”

“Don’t listen to her, Cassie,” Daya said while narrowing her eyes at Odessa.

“I’m just telling her how the world works,” Odessa said with a sly smile.

“Get the fuck outta here, Odie,” Desiree said through her teeth; her hands were tightly balled into fists at her side. Odessa gave a derisive laugh and bounced out of the room. “Do not believe her, Cas. She’s just being her usual bitchy self. Jamir was wrong. Not you.”

Cassie nodded and spent the rest of the afternoon being comforted by her friend and cousin. Yet later that evening while the rest of the house was deep in slumber she was wide awake mentally battling with Odessa’s words. A part of her knew that her cousin was just taking her meanness out on her (a habit that Cassie had unfortunately became use to); however, another part of her feared that there was a smidgen of truth to her cousin’s words. What if love remained an unattainable desire for the rest of her life?

\-------------------

The weeks following the end of Cassie and Jamir’s relationship—as she grew she would later scoff at the use of that word—were the hardest she had to ever endure. It didn’t take long for Jamir to find a new girl. He openly flaunted her in front of Cassie at church. He made sure to go out of his way to do overly sentimental gestures—kiss her hand; giggle loudly with her; Cassie even once caught them making out behind the church (not having to suffer with his horrible kisses was probably the only highlight of the entire situation). These displays only succeeded in turning Cassie’s hurt and pain into anger and resentment. Yet, in spite of these feelings, she pitied the girl that was with Jamir. The poor girl had no idea what she was getting into. Cassie had to warn her.

The girl’s name was Tanisha Gardner. She was barely a year older than Cassie and attended the same school. One day, Cassie cornered her inside the first floor girl’s bathroom. “Um, hi, Tanisha.”

“Hi, Cassie. How’s your grandma doing? Did she get the pound cake my mama sent?”

“Yeah. She’s good. The cake was delicious or at least what I got of it. The boys devoured majority of it but the crumbs were moist.” Both girls gave weak laughs at Cassie’s joke. “I, uh, I…” Cassie swallowed hard. This was so much easier in her head.

“What’s up? You okay?”

“Ye-no. I…” Cassie took a deep breath. “You’re dating Jamir Reynolds, right?”

“Yeah. You’re cool with that, right? He told me y’all hung out for a little bit but it didn’t work out.”

“Yeah...” She bit her lip and looked at her feet before meeting Tanisha’s brown eyes again. “Tanisha, I know Jamir seems nice—”

“He _is_ nice.”

Cassie could detect a slight attitude in Tanisha’s voice but she ignored it. “No. He’s not. He’s a liar and a player and—”

“And you’re just saying this because he kicked your ass to the curb.”

Cassie again ignored the snarky comment. “Listen, Jamir’s not a good guy, okay? He’s… He’s manipulative and-and—”

“Ya know what, Cassie? I’m trying really hard to be nice here and not put all your shit out in the street—”

“What are you talking about?”

“Jamir told me everything that happened between y’all.”

“Oh, I seriously doubt that.”

“He told me that you play this nice, quiet girl shit when really you’re anything but.”

“He’s one to talk! Besides, Tanisha, you’ve known me for the last four years!”

“No, we only go to church and school together. And that don’t me we know each other! This is the longest conversation we’ve ever had.”

Cassie scoffed. “Fine! Whatever. I just thought I should warn you so you don’t make the same stupid mistake I did but if you don’t wanna listen I ain’t gonna waste my breath.”

Tanisha sucked her teeth. “You’re just mad that Jamir dumped your hoe ass.”

Cassie wasn’t sure if she had heard her correctly. “Wh-what did you just call me?”

“Jamir told me all about how you just couldn’t get enough of sucking his dick.” Tanisha made a disgusted face while looking her up and down. “You all up in my face tryna give me advice like you the queen shit or something. I’ll tell you what… If I need advice on hoeing I’ll give your ass a call but until then stay away from me and my man.” She pushed passed Cassie and exited the bathroom leaving her standing with her mouth agape in shock.

To make matters worse, Tanisha seemingly wasn’t just satisfied in insulting Cassie in private. By the month’s end, Cassie had endured random people pointing and whispering about her or mumbling the word “hoe”—or some variation—under their breaths as she walked passed. Guys who previously had no interest in her were now suddenly noticing her. She had more invitations to “hang out” or “chill” than she ever wanted. And when she turned them down they always called her a “tease” or worse. If it wasn’t for Daya, Desiree and a couple of her friends having her back, Cassie wasn’t sure she would have made it through the month in one piece.

At the end of a particular shitty week, she was ecstatic for Friday—even more so than usual—and she wanted nothing more than to spend the weekend free from the gossip that surrounded her. However, any hopes of making it through the day relatively unscathed were dashed when she entered the campus and saw a mob of giggling kids crowding around her locker. She pushed passed them and let out a loud gasp at the words “NASTY HOE” sprawled across it in permanent marker. That was it.

She pushed passed the other students and marched towards the stairwell. A simmering anger grew inside her with each step she climbed to the third floor. Tanisha shared homeroom with Desiree so Cassie knew exactly where to find her. There weren’t that many students in the classroom yet—only five or six—and Tanisha was sitting in the front row talking to a couple of her friends. Cassie marched up to her and slammed her open palms on the desk causing the girls to jump in surprise.

“You wrote that shit on my locker, didn’t you?”

“I’m sorry but I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tanisha replied with a smirk. Cassie desperately wanted to slap it off her face.

“Why are you doing this to me? I tried! I tried to be nice to you, to be your friend! I—”

“‘Friend?’ I’m sorry but I don’t hang out with hoes.” She and her friends laughed at the comment and the simmering anger within Cassie boiled into a full blown rage. Cassie hit Tanisha so hard against her head that the sheer force of it knocked the girl out of her seat. The classroom, which had been steadily filling up with students, all turned their attention to the girls.

“I got your hoe,” Cassie screamed before pouncing on Tanisha. She punched her repeatedly in the face, alternating between her left and right fists, before giving her a good kick in the side. One of Tanisha’s friends grabbed Cassie’s curls and pulled her off their friend while the other helped Tanisha off the floor. The action made Cassie shriek out in pain. She scratched her nails down the girl’s arms causing them to scream and swear at the pain. The girl freed Cassie—she wasn’t much of a fighter and didn’t want any more physical damage than what had already been inflicted on her—and inspected the marks.

Cassie pushed the friend that helped Tanisha up to the floor before grabbing a handful of Tanisha’s long black hair and dragging her to the front of the class. “Somebody get this crazy bitch off me!” Luckily for her the teacher had informed school security of the fight and one of the guards wrapped his arm around Cassie’s stomach and tried to pull her away. “She’s got my hair! She’s got my hair!” The guard continued trying to pull Cassie away and when they finally succeeded Tanisha let out a nearly ear piercing screech as Cassie pulled out a handful of her hair.

The fight earned Cassie a week’s suspension and the stern, disapproving glare of her grandmother. (Her cousins, however, all applauded her). Cassie didn’t fully explain to her grandmother the cause behind the fight—she didn’t want her disapproval to turn into anger. Instead she opted to tell her grandmother a half-truth: that the fight was a culmination of a month-long bullying. Cassie was more than glad that the half-truth satisfied her grandmother’s curiosity. She wanted to forget about all the drama that she experienced in the past weeks.

The whole ordeal had begun to make her sick to her stomach. Literally. Every morning she would wake with the strong need to vomit. Sometimes she would sprint past a groggy and slow moving relative so that she could get to the bathroom first. (Whenever she moved to slow she found the trashcan in the backyard worked just as well). Cassie thought nothing of the recurrent sickness nor about the constant fatigue she was experiencing as well. Every day she would come home from school and nap for hours before waking up late at night and nearly cleaning out the refrigerator. She assumed these symptoms were the results of the stress of school and everything that had taken place in the past week. It wasn’t until Desiree had pulled her aside one Saturday afternoon that she suspected that it might be something else.

“Pregnant!” The volume at which Cassie spat the word out surprised even her. She quickly peeked out of her bedroom door to see if anyone—specifically her grandmother—had heard but the house was empty. Still she closed the door behind her for privacy’s sake before speaking again. “I can’t be pregnant! We only did it once!”

“And? Gina Alvarez got pregnant on her first time.”

“That’s Gina Alvarez! I’m-I’m just a little—”

“Tired,” Desiree interrupted. “And-and…,” she dug through her purse, pulled out a pamphlet, and opened it. “And queasy in the mornings?”

“Yes…? Where the hell did you get that from?”

Cassie snatched the pamphlet from her hand and flipped it from side to side as she glanced over the cover. Desiree grabbed it back and reopened it. “From the counselor at school. So you’re experiencing fatigue, morning sickness...”

“Stop calling it morning sickness! I’m not pregnant, Desiree!”

“Really? When’s the last time you had your period?”

“It was…” Cassie mentally counted back and froze at the realization that she had, in fact, missed a period. “I…I can’t be pregnant, Desi. I just…can’t.” She fell hard to the floor. Desiree rushed to her side and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “I can’t have a child. I _am_ a child. What am I gonna do? Oh, god… Ma’dear’s gon kill me…”

“You know she’s gonna make you keep it.”

“Yep. I don’t want to have his child. I don’t even want to be in the same city and state as him!” Cassie laid her head on her cousin’s shoulder and cried.

Cassie was in a dilemma. She could tell her grandmother and probably be forced to keep the child or she could try deal with this on her own. Daya’s older brother Alex’s girlfriend had told her about a friend of a friend who specialized in getting rid of “el indeseado.” Cassie didn’t like the shadiness of the second option and was, therefore, only left with the alternative.

Desiree came up with the brilliant option to corner their grandmother after Sunday service when she was “still filled with the spirit” and would be more susceptible to receiving bad news. “Ma’dear? Cassie has something to tell you.” She pushed her cousin in front of her.

Cassie’s skinny knees shook. She grabbed onto the back of a nearby dining chair for support. “I… I,” she cleared her throat. “I…I love you.”

“I love you too, Cassie. Now y’all got take them plates down and set the table for dinner. Desiree, baby, baste that chicken in the oven for me. And take the tater salad out the fridge when you’re done.”

“Yes, ma’am,” both girls said before ducking into the kitchen. Once she was sure they were out of their grandmother’s earshot, Desiree slapped Cassie on her arm. “‘I love you?’”

“I panicked,” said while pulling down some plates from the cabinet in front of her.

“Look, you gotta just lay it right out. Just tell her, ‘Ma’dear, I’m pregnant!’”

“You’re what?” Desiree and Cassie jumped at the sound of their grandmother’s voice. “What did I hear you just say, little girl?” Desiree was too afraid to speak. Their grandmother was a tiny woman with a loud bark. When she was riled up she could put the fear of God into men twice her size. “You’re pregnant, Desiree?”

Desiree could only answer in fearful whimpers. Her eyes widened and she looked back at Cassie for help. Cassie held her hand and softly whispered, “No, ma’dear, she’s not. I am.”

Her grandmother walked closer to her. She opened her arms and Cassie braced herself for a hit. “Oh, my baby.” Cassie’s apprehension ebbed as her grandmother’s arms enclosed around her. “My sweet, sweet baby.” Cassie was so happy that her grandmother wasn’t enraged that she wrapped her arms around the tiny woman’s waist and cried into her neck. “Tell me what happened,” her grandmother said once the embrace was over.

Tears streamed down Cassie’s face as she divulged everything that had transpired—the secret relationship with Jamir, the losing of her virginity, the horrible break up, the true reason behind her and Tanisha’s fight. Her grandmother sadly shook her head. “Those Reynolds are bad business. The lot of them! If I had the strength I would beat his little ass all across to Bossier and back!” Cassie couldn’t help but to chuckle at the comment. It felt really good to laugh. “So…what are you gonna do?”

“What?”

“About the baby? You gonna keep it?”

“I…I really don’t want to, ma’dear.”

Her grandmother reached over and gently patted the back of her hand. “I don’t blame you, sweetie. I’ll tell you what we’ll discuss it with your uncle after dinner tonight.”

“Oh, no, ma’dear! I can’t talk to Uncle Johnny about this!”

“I know but he’s the one with the money.”

Despite of the gnawing hunger in her stomach, Cassie could barely eat during dinner. She sat quietly picking at her food while her family conversed amongst each other. When dinner was finally over her grandmother pulled her uncle aside and explained Cassie’s predicament to him. Cassie bit her lip and rapidly bounced her knee up and down while she sat at the dining table and watched her uncle and grandmother talk. He faced her and let out an “hmph” before walking past her.

“Uncle Johnny,” she called out but he ignored her and continued toward his bedroom. He shut the door behind him. Cassie could feel fresh tears begin to sting her eyes. She knew that he was probably disappointed or upset with her. She turned to her grandmother. “He hates me.”

“No, baby. He’s just…well, he’s gon need some time. In the meantime, we gon go on down to the clinic and set you up an appointment.” She placed a kiss on Cassie’s forehead before heading to the doorway that separated the dining room from the rest of the house.

“I’m so sorry,” Cassie said softly. “I’m so sorry I didn’t listen to you. I’m sorry that I was so stupid. I’m—”

“Hush, child.” Her grandmother walked back to where Cassie was sitting and grabbed her hands and gave them a small squeeze. “We all make mistakes. Every one of us. Your uncle. Me. Ain’t nobody got no sin that they can stone you. You learn from this, ya hear me talkin’ to ya?”

Cassie weakly nodded that she understood. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Now go to bed. You have school in the morning.”

Cassie lay in bed gently stroking Odessa’s arm that was draped across her chest. She glanced over at the time on the clock that sat on the side table. It was a little after one in the morning. She had tried (and failed) numerous times to go to sleep but her anxiety kept her awake. She really wished she could redo the last few months of her life but, of course, she couldn’t. Her grandmother was right. The only thing she _could_ do was to learn from this. She sighed and closed her eyes and made a mental promise to herself. There would be no more Jamirs. No more one-sided relationships. No more being lied to and used. She would make smarter decisions and protect herself and her heart.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter picks up right after Tom and Cassie's break up.

Cassie shuddered as she threw back another shot of vodka. Charlie angrily paced his apartment muttering to himself. Occasionally he would stop, look at Cassie and yell out, “I swear I could kill that son of a bitch,” before refilling and swallowing a shot glass of liquor. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lit it, and took a long puff. “I fucking mean it, Cas. I could end him!” He threw the pack on the table in front of Cassie and filled himself another shot of vodka. “Now tell me again,” he said after taking another drag on his cigarette. “He said _what_ to you?”

Cassie hiccupped and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “He said that he ‘just couldn’t do us’—whatever the fuck _that_ means—and that…,” she took another swallow of the alcohol, “and that he didn’t love me.” She slammed her glass down on the table and reached for the bottle of vodka to refill it but Charlie grabbed it before she could and poured the last of it into his own glass.

He gulped it down before saying, “That’s bullshit!”

“Well, that’s what he said.” Cassie grabbed Charlie’s pack of cigarettes and pulled one out. She put it in her mouth and lit it. She wasn’t much of a smoker—the last time she smoked anything was her junior year of high school when she, Daya, and her cousin Desiree stole a couple of Black and Mild’s from one of Daya’s older brothers and took turns puffing on them in Daya’s basement—but she needed a distraction for her hands. She wanted to punch or rip something to pieces. She had stormed out of Tom’s apartment with tears streaming down her cheeks but by the time she made it to Charlie’s apartment she was fuming with pent up anger. Upon seeing her puffy, red eyes and her tear stained cheeks, Charlie wrapped his arms around her, pulled her inside, and took down two bottles of vodka that he was saving for his house party he had planned to throw himself on the weekend.

“So that’s just it, huh? He just wakes up one day and decides that he doesn’t love you anymore? And he waits three fucking days to say something!”

“Apparently,” she said with a nonchalant shrug. She took a deep inhale on the cigarette in her hands and let out a cough at the feeling of the smoke burning in her lungs. She took another inhale—this one much smaller—and turned her face up to the ceiling as she exhaled the smoke.

“I swear to god when I see him I’m gonna beat that fucking accent out of him!”

“No, Charlie,” she said as she stubbed out her cigarette in the clear ashtray that sat before her on the table. “It’s okay. I—”

“‘It’s okay?’” He exhaled another puff before continuing. “Like hell it is, Cas! That bastard treated you like shit on the bottom of his shoes and you’re fucking defending him!”

“I’m not defending him,” Cassie said as she stared at the distant skyline that was visible through the open window that sat across from her. “I’m just…I’m tired of lying to myself, ya know?”

“What do you mean,” Charlie asked while lighting another smoke.

“I mean… I’m tired of playing the fool, Charlie. I’m tired of thinking that I deserve love.”

Charlie blew out a puff of smoke then softly said, “Cas, everyone deserves love. _Especially_ you.” He flicked his still burning cigarette into the ashtray—barely making it—and took a seat next to her. “You’re just upset because of everything that’s happened but,” he took her hand in his, “you _are_ worthy of love. Just because you had a few bad—”

“‘A few,’” Cassie scoffed. “This is the fourth time this has happened to me, Charlie. Fourth! I…I don’t know… For some reason I thought that this time things would be different.” She could feel fresh tears begin to well up in her eyes.

Charlie rubbed the back of her hand. “Cas, listen—”

“How does that saying about insanity go,” she interrupted. “‘Keep doing the same shit over and over expecting different results?’” She sniffed and felt the sting of hot tears rolling down her cheek. “I’m done.” She wiped the tears away with her fingertips and rose from her seat. “I am done being insane. I am done being in love all by myself. I am done with crying over people who have _never_ given two shits about me.”

Charlie rose from his seat and took a step towards her. “Cassie, I—”

She waved her hand and cut him off. “Don’t. Just…don’t, Charlie. Please.” She sniffled and rubbed her nose before clearing her throat to add, “I just… need to lie down for a couple of minutes… or hours.” She gave a weak laugh. “I think the drinking and smoking gave me a bit of a headache. Do you mind if I rest in your bed?”

“Of course not, honey.” Cassie thanked him and made her way to his bedroom. “Hey,” he called out before she entered the room. “It’s gonna be okay. I promise you that.” She gave a polite smile and nodded before closing the door behind her. He knew that she didn’t believe him. Hell, even _he_ didn’t believe himself. He really could kill Tom. He could wrap his hands around that bastard’s neck and squeeze it until those blue eyes of his popped out like that funny looking stress relief toy his therapist gave him years ago. His keys were in his pants pocket; he could just hop in his uncle’s truck and take a drive across town to Tom’s apartment. “Nope,” Charlie said while shaking his head. “Don’t make it worse.” Besides driving while angry (plus the high level of alcohol in his blood) was the least smart thing that he could do right now. He needed to be here for Cassie but the desire to make Tom pay for his behavior was too great. He needed a way to expend his anger that probably wouldn’t result in him catching an assault charge.

Charlie remembered that the building had a gym. It was small and most of the equipment hadn’t been well taken care of but it had a fairly unused punching bag that he could release his anger out on. He marched towards the door and stopped short of opening it. He reached into his pockets and pulled out his keychain. He removed his apartment key from it and tossed the remaining chain on the nearby counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the apartment—the temptation to ignore the gym and head straight for Tom’s apartment would be too great to ignore if he didn’t leave his truck keys behind. He closed and locked the door behind him before trudging down the stairs and heading to the gym.

The gym was mostly empty except for two large older ladies who politely smiled at him as he entered but continued to chat amongst themselves as they walked on the treadmills. The machines groaned with each step their feet laid upon it. Charlie wasn’t sure if it was because of the weight of the women or the fact that the equipment hadn’t been properly maintained for years. He politely nodded at the women before walking to the corner where the punching bag was hung from. It wasn’t until he was in front of the bag that he realized that he had neither boxing gloves nor tape to protect his hands. He shrugged. He was more concerned about what would happen if he didn’t immediately quell his boiling anger than about any damage to his hands. He ignored the pains in his knuckles as he muttered and cursed to himself while repeatedly punching at the equipment.

_______________

Tom lay in his bed staring up at the ceiling. He refused to look at the time on his clock sitting on his night stand. Regardless of the hour, he knew it was too late for him to still be up. His body wanted to sleep but his mind continued to race nonstop. He supposed he wouldn’t have been so annoyed if his reason for lack of sleep was due to his hectic schedule—hell he’d even take a bad night’s sleep due to the spicy dinner he had earlier—instead of the nagging guilt that plagued his thoughts. Even when he managed to finally close his eyes for a moment or two Cassie’s pretty face would slip into his dreams and cause his guilty conscious to stir him awake. With her came the replays of their fight: the way her voice cracked and her body shook when she cried; the look of hurt in her eyes; the image of the door slamming behind her as she stormed out of his apartment. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his lids as he tried to push the images away. Yet they wouldn’t budge. He sighed as he blinked his blurry eyes back into focus. The only solution would be to take a couple of the sleeping pills his doctor prescribed for him. He hadn’t taken them in a months—he stopped after about a week because they made him drowsy throughout the day. He wasn’t even sure of they were still good but he was desperate for a couple hours of rest.

He rose from the bed and walked to the kitchen to fill a glass of water. He returned to the bedroom and placed the glass on the stand next to the bed and opened the drawer. When he reached inside he didn’t find the pill bottle instead he found Cassie’s old satin bonnet. He gave a light chuckle at the sight of it. He had forgotten that one night weeks ago when he almost yanked it off her hair so he could bury his face in her curls before they made love. He had found it a couple of days later wedged between the headboard and the wall and absentmindedly tossed it into the stand. He smiled to himself as he caressed the bonnet before bringing it to his nose and inhaling the faint residue of coconut that normally clung to her hair. He immediately regretted doing so because with that scent came a rush of memories.

He could see her curled under him with her head lying on his chest. One of his hands was playing in her curls; the other was intertwined with hers as she talked to him about something but he couldn’t exactly remember what. This memory faded into one where she was laying on the couch with tears streaming down her face as she begged him to stop tickling her. She had made some smart ass remark and tried to outrun him but he caught her, of course, and decided to punish her. Strands of her hair fell onto her face as she managed to laugh out, “You ain’t shit!” This memory transitioned into one where she stood in the doorway of the bedroom and seductively called his name. He looked up from the book he was reading and saw her wrapped in her ugly light blue robe with the frayed edges at the bottom.

“Is this supposed to be sexy,” he had asked her with a chuckle.

“Not the robe, no.” She climbed on the bed and sat on his hips. He smiled at the feeling of her weight on top of him. “What’s underneath the robe, however,” she continued, “I hope you find it sexy.”

Tom tossed his book to the side and gently tugged at the ties on her robe. “Ooh. An early Christmas present? Or a late birthday one?”

“Well,” she said coyly, “I had some extra money lying around and I thought I’d get something we’d both like.” Tom eagerly untied her robe and let out another “ooh” at the sight of the peach colored sheer lingerie she was wearing. “You approve?” Tom responded by suddenly grabbing her and flipping her onto her back causing her to chuckle.

Tom shook the memory away. No. He didn’t need this. He didn’t need more reminders of the way they were before he fucked everything up. But the memory wouldn’t stay away. It called to him like her alluring voice had that day. He closed his eyes hoping to replace it with another one but failed. He could almost feel her panting underneath him as he placed wet kisses down her body. He could almost see her wetness growing on the crotch of her panties as he gently ran his thumb down her lower lips. He could even hear her begging for him to stop teasing her.

His cock twitched at the memory of her biting her lip (god he loved when she did that!) as she impatiently tugged at his belt buckle. He resisted the urge to touch himself. He knew if he reached inside his boxers to relieve himself it would be like throwing gasoline on a fire. Yet the memory would not stop playing. Now he could almost taste the bittersweetness of her pussy on his tongue; he could almost feel her body tense and her hips buck as he tasted her. He could almost feel her pulse around his fingers as she came.

“Goddammit,” he called out before finally lying back on the bed and freeing his aching cock from his boxers. He spat on his palm a few times before lazily stroking his cock. He closed his eyes and bit his lip; he frowned when he realized he couldn’t actually taste her on them. He stroked and twisted his hand around his cock as he now saw her riding him. She had looked so beautiful on top of him. Her bottom lip quivering as she shuddered out a moan. He ran his thumbs over her hard, brown nipples through the sheer bra she was still wearing. He sat up and sucked on one through the thin fabric before pulling it down and exposing her flesh to him. He continued to suck and bite on one breast then the other as he thrust up into her.

He stroked himself faster now as he remembered her wrapping an arm around his neck as she frantically rode him. He had wrapped his lips around hers and captured every pant his thrusts caused. The feeling of her body jerking as she clenched around his cock as she came was always heaven to him. It was a feeling that his hands, obviously, couldn’t recapture.

He gnashed his teeth and groaned as he came—the come spurting onto his knuckles and the bottom of his undershirt. He remained in the bed for a few moments before finally dragging himself into the bathroom. He removed his shirt and threw it in the laundry basket behind the door then washed his hands clean. He shuffled back to his bedroom and saw Cassie’s bonnet lying on the bed. He picked it up and almost inhaled the coconut scent again before he stopped himself. He carelessly tossed it to the floor and fell face first onto the bed. His tiredness finally took over and he closed his eyes. He had only been asleep for a few minutes before she reinvaded in his dreams. With her reappearance came the nonstop guilt that rampaged throughout his thoughts. His eyes shot open again and he let out a frustrated groan.

Tom knew the sleepless nights were to come. When things had ended with Briony and Kat he couldn’t sleep for months due to being constantly hounded by his wrongs. Yet with Cassie, he found himself more agitated than he should have been and he didn’t know why. Cassie was the victim in their breakup. Not him. But she was _everywhere_. There was no room in his apartment that didn’t bear the imprint of her in some way. He had to get rid of her.

He angrily sprung off the bed and marched into his kitchen. He pulled open the cabinet under the sink and grabbed a trash bag. The sound of his bare feet stomping on the hardwood floors as he made his way back to the bedroom echoed off the walls. Once back inside his bedroom he flicked on the lights and surveyed the room. He frowned as his eyes landed on the bed. _Way_ too many memories on that damn thing. He couldn’t get rid of the whole bed but the cover and the pillowcases had to go. He opened the trash bag and ripped the cover off the bed and stuffed it into the bag as best he could. Next he grabbed the pillows and shook them out of the cases before tossing them into the bag as well.

He dragged the bag to the closet and flung open the door. She had a red jacket hanging next to one of his cardigans. He pulled it off the rack and ran his thumbs over the patent leather exterior. He had only seen her wear it once back when they were still friends. They had decided to catch a late evening showing of some movie one night and she had casually draped it over her shoulder to protect herself from the cold of theater. He inhale the thin inner lining of the jacket in hopes that, like her satin bonnet, it held some faint remnant of the strawberry scent that he had grown to associate with her. It didn’t. It only smelled like the cheap fabrics used to stitch it. He mentally kicked himself for trying to conjure up her scents. Wasn’t his subconscious torturing him enough? He shoved the jacket into the trash bag and immediately began to pull down any piece of clothing that he could and throwing them into the bag as well—hanger and all.

Next he walked to his dresser and opened the top drawer. He crammed a handful of her underwear into the bag followed by a couple of her sleep clothes. His mind was frantically racing as he tried to remember every place Cassie might have left some reminder of herself. The bathroom held her toothbrush, deodorant, a box of tampons. They all went into the bag. Her laptop was still sitting next to his desk on the floor in its bag. It too (carefully) went into the bag. DVDs, books, shoes; every single one of them went into the trash bag.

He let out a huff of breath as he dragged the now brimming bag back to his bedroom. The room was a disaster—as was most of the house he ransacked—and he lamented the hell it would be to clean everything up later; but at least, in some ways, he made progress in packing her up. Tomorrow he would do it again. More books, more clothes, those awards. He would do it little by little every day until every last piece of her was gone.

He started to tie off the bag but out of the corner of his eye he caught Cassie’s bright pink satin bonnet sitting on the floor. Oh that most definitely had to go. He snatched it up and threw it into the bag and tied it off. He pulled on his old pair of torn slippers and dragged the bag to the trash can. He walked back to his apartment and fell back onto his bed.

He managed to sleep for about a good twenty minutes before he heard the sound of the collectors shouting at one another over the loud roar of the garbage truck’s engine. At first the sound didn’t register with him; it was just background noise that impeded his sleep. But when he heard one of the collectors yell out, “Don’t forget the bags on the sides,” he shot awake.

“Cassie,” he called out as he sprung from his bed and sprinted out his apartment door. “Cassie,” he called again as he ran through the hall and down the side exit steps. “Cassie,” he yelled as he picked up his knees and ran faster; the fear of being too late spurred him on. “Cassie! Wait!”

“Yo, look at that white dude,” one of the collectors said to his coworker. “Did he just call you Cassius Clay?”

“I don’t even know, man, but let’s bounce! My man, Darrell, had one of them crazies on his route and got a knife in the hand because of it! I’m not trying to get stabbed out here.” The other man agreed with him and they hurriedly threw the last few remaining bags in the back of the truck. They were just about to pull the level that compressed the contents inside when Tom grabbed the first man by the arm.

“No, don’t!”

The man shook Tom’s grip off his arm. “Yo, man, what the hell’s your problem?”

“Nothing,” Tom huffed between breaths. “Nothing….I just…I…I need…my trash.”

The two men looked at each other in confusion. “Told you man. Crazy as hell.” The second man said to the first.

“No…I swear…I’m…I’m not. I just…threw…my girlfriend…away…”

“Fucking hell,” the second man exclaimed as he took two steps back from Tom.

Tom noticed the men’s expressions and waved his hands. “No! No, I mean,” he took one long exhale and finally caught his breath, “I mean my girlfriend’s _things_. I need to get them.”

The men exchanged glances again. “Yo, dude,” the first man started, “You mean, you want us to rifle through the trash for your girl’s tampons and shit?”

“Yes! Well, no! Sorta. I-I mean, _I’ll_ do it. If I let her things get destroyed…I’ll never forgive myself. _Please._ ”

After a moment of thinking it over, the men reluctantly agreed. Tom enthusiastically thanked them and started to climb into the back of the truck but stopped to cough at the strong odor of the trash emitting from within it. “No, no. You can’t go in there,” the first man said as he pulled Tom back. “Regulations and shit. Besides even if you _were_ allowed to you can’t do it barefoot. You never know what’s in there, man. You need boots like these.” He signaled to his footwear.

“What size are you, mate,” Tom asked.

“Ten.”

Tom shook his head. “No good.” He turned to the second man. “You?”

“Thirteen.”

“I’d be much obliged.” The man rolled his eyes and groaned as he bent over and unlaced his boots one by one.

“And you’re gonna need these,” the first man said as he removed his gloves and goggles and handed them to Tom. “Oh, and this,” he added while removing his respiratory mask. “You got a whiff of what it’s like in there.” Tom chuckled and nodded in agreement before thanking both men as he put the items they gave him. “We can only give you ten minutes. After that you coming out. Whether you got your shit or not, understand?” Tom nodded again and, with stranger’s boots on his feet and gloves on his hands, he climbed into the back of the garbage truck.

Tom dug through the seemingly endless piles of trash before him. He ripped through countless black bags. He was so grateful for the men for allowing him to borrow their goggles and mask. From the looks of some of the items within the ripped bags, he surmised that he would vomit endlessly if he had to suffer through whatever stench they gave off. “Five minutes,” one of the men called to him. Tom nodded that he heard them but, internally, he was panicking. He said a silent prayer to any god that would listen to help him find that goddamn bag. If he hadn’t listened to whatever the hell it was that seemed to possess him earlier, he wouldn’t be knee deep in other people’s waste right now. He would be in bed mentally wrestling with himself. (He never thought he would actually _wish_ for torment and insomnia but damn it was such a better option that the one he was currently dealing with).

“One minute,” one of the men said. Maybe he should just give up. Maybe he should just climb back into bed and await the shitstorm that Cassie would rain upon him when he explained what happened to her things when she came to collect them. He wondered if she would kill him quickly or make him suffer. He let out a muffled chuckle at the mental image of Cassie bludgeoning him with whatever random item she could get her dainty little hands on. (God did he need to sleep! There wasn’t anything funny about the way he was currently ruining his life. Astonishing? Definitely. But funny? No. Not at all).

“Okay, dude. Time’s up.” Tom’s heart began to beat faster. He was so focused on what _might_ happen if he didn’t find the bag that he forgot to spend his last minute _actually_ looking.

“No! Wait!” Tom continued to rip open bags. “I need more time!”

“Oh, shit,” the first man sighed. “I knew he was gonna do this. Hand me your mask and gloves.” The fear of being pulled out of the truck at any minute by one of the men encouraged Tom to work faster. He quickly tore through bag after bag. He swore aloud to himself every time he didn’t recognize contents inside. “C’mon, man. I’m sorry you ain’t found your girl’s shit but we can’t be held up here all morning.” He grabbed Tom’s elbow and began to drag him out.

“No,” Tom shouted as he wrestled against the man’s hold. “Just one more bag! Just one more!” Tom grabbed at the nearest bag. His nails sunk into it and just when the second man came to assist his coworker, the side of the bag split open and Tom gave a hearty laugh when he saw it. There, sitting next to her black bra, was Cassie’s bright pink satin bonnet. Tom swore he heard a heavenly chorus sing at the sight of the cap—or maybe it was the delirium from the lack of sleep. “There it is! There it is!” Tom managed to wrestle free of the men’s grasp and grabbed the bag.

“Holy shit! He actually found it,” one of the men said amazed. They helped Tom out of the truck. “Man, this girl must be some work for you to go through all this hell for a silk cap!”

Tom chuckled as he removed the borrowed items. “Man, she’s…,” he paused while trying to find the words. “I can’t even explain it. You guys ever met someone who just gets into your system? Just like… _infects_ it? That’s not a good explanation.”

“Nah, man! I get it,” the second man said while lacing up his boots. “I think we all had one of them infectious chicks. Shit I married mine! Best thing to ever happen to me.”

“Or the worst,” the first man chimed in. “All my exes infected me and I’m still trying to find the goddamn cure!” The three men chuckled and Tom tried his best to tie the side of his trash bag up. “So you got you one of the good ones, huh?”

Tom paused momentarily before answering. “Uh, yeah. She’s a good one.”

“That’s good, man,” the second man responded. “You gotta hold on tight to those good infectious chicks, ya know?”

“Yeah,” Tom replied before looking down at his feet like a chastised child. “Thanks again, guys.” The men nodded and hopped on the back of the truck. One pulled the compression lever and the other hit the side and signaled for the driver to (finally) take off. They gave Tom one last wave goodbye and he nodded in return.

Tom carefully dragged the trash bag to the elevator and quietly waited for it to come to the main floor. Once inside, he nearly gagged at the strong stench coming off his clothes. When he finally got back into his apartment, it took him an hour to wash the foul odor off—he decided it was best to throw his clothes away instead of trying to wash them. He untied the bag where he had split it open and pulled the bonnet from it. He pulled the sheet back from the bed and climbed underneath it. He foolishly took a deep inhale of the cap—he was surprised that it didn’t smell like the garbage truck. He pulled the cap close, shut his eyes and for the next hour he let the flood of memories invade his sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

Charlie and Cassie were sitting at the table. A large red first aid bag sat next to them on the floor. Cassie unwrapped the bandages on Charlie’s hand before reaching into the bag and pulling out a fresh roll of bandages and a pair of scissors. She gently took his hand in hers and he winced as Cassie rewrapped his hand. “Not so tight!” Cassie mouthed out “sorry” as she undid the bandages and rewrapped them much gentler.

“Better,” she asked.

“A little.”

“Your hands are looking pretty good,” she said as she cut off the bandage on his hand from the roll and tied it off. “Even though I still think you’re an idiot for not wearing gloves.”

After releasing his anger on the gym’s punching bag two weeks ago, Charlie had returned to the apartment to take care of his blistered knuckles. He could barely close his palm. He let out painful breaths as he turned the kitchen faucet on. He ran his hands under the water and let out a loud yell from the pain of the water hitting his knuckles. The sound of him yelling jolted Cassie from her sleep and she ran into the kitchen to find him leaning over the sink cursing himself. She gently grabbed his hand and examined it. His knuckles were bloody due to the skin on a few of them scrapping off. She turned his hand to inspect the inside but he winced at the slightest movement of them. She finally gave up and rushed him to the hospital. It turned out that he had fractured a metacarpal bone and sprained both wrists. Thankfully his sprains were only minor and healed within a few days but the damage to his hand, unfortunately, would take weeks to heal. Charlie was advised to not do any strenuous work so not to exacerbate the injury. When they returned to his apartment later that evening, Cassie verbally tore into him for twenty minutes straight.

Charlie wasn’t in the mood to be yelled at then and he was even less so now. He rolled his eyes. “Don’t lecture me, Cas.”

“I will lecture you, Charlie,” she replied while putting away the extra bandages in the first aid bag and zipping it. “If you wanted to ruin your hands you should have just punched one of these brick walls!” Charlie let out an annoyed groan and Cassie mocked it. “There are better ways to deal with your anger than hurting yourself.”

“Thanks, _mom_. I’ll remember that for next time. Can I please go now?”

“You’re very welcome, _son_.” She patted his head. “And yes, you may go play with the other kids in the neighborhood now.” He flipped her off with his good hand—causing her to laugh in response—before rising from the table and heading for his bedroom. “Wait,” she called out before he got too far. “Do you think you’ll feel good enough to go to Chris’ birthday party tonight?”

He faced her. “Chris…?”

“Hemsworth.”

Charlie squeezed his eyes shut pinched the bridge of his nose. He sighed before saying, “I’m not going to his party. And you shouldn’t either.”

“Why shouldn’t I? He invited me.”

“No. He invited you and _Tom_. You know he’ll be there. Chris is his best friend.” Cassie started to reply but Charlie cut her off. “Don’t go. Okay? You and I both know shit’ll happen if you do. Very bad shit.”

“Not necessarily! I can go and actually have a damn good time. Everything doesn’t have to be so damn dramatic, Charlie.”

“If you go, Cas, there _will_ be drama! You’re gonna run into Tom and then y’all will fight and then…very bad shit will happen!”

“Not. Necessarily. I can go and meet new people. I mean, no offense but it would be nice to have another friend to talk to besides you. Besides it’s free food, free drinks and hopefully great conversation with people I like. All I’d have to do is avoid this _one_ asshole! That’s not gonna be that fucking hard to do.”

“Please, Cassie…If you listen to me on only one thing for the rest of our friendship let it be this. Do not go. Stay with me. We’ll order pizza and watch _The Wiz_ or whatever you want. Just don’t go to that fucking party.”

Cassie gently shook her head and softly said, “I have to go.”

“What did you say?”

Cassie sighed and repeated louder, “I have to go, Charlie.”

“You have to go,” he asked with a confused look on his face. “You _have_ to go,” he repeated as he stepped forward. “What is that phrase you and Daya were always using? You, uh…you ‘don’t _have_ to do anything but stay black and die’?”

“Charlie, please…”

“But now you _have_ to go to some party?”

“Charlie,” she said through her teeth, “I just need—”

“Oh, now it’s _need_! Now you _need_ to go like you _need_ food and air!”

“Yes, Charlie,” she yelled. “I _need_ to go to that fucking party! I _need_ to see the look—that…that shit eating look—on Tom’s face when he sees me and realizes that he fucked up! I need that! For me! Okay? God… I-I’m not asking for much.”

“So…so lemme get this straight… You’re gonna put yourself in emotional turmoil…on the tiniest hope…of some comeuppance? Okay. But you’re not asking for much.” He shook his head and scoffed. “You know, I never really thought of you as dumb before…”

“Go fuck yourself, Charles! And the goddamn high horse you’re riding on! You forget I was there when you and James broke up. Yeah. And I remember all the nasty shit that went down between you two afterwards.”

“That was different!”

“‘Different’? Oh. Okay. I see how it is now. When _you_ wanna make your ex suffer it’s for ‘closure’—or whatever the fuck you said—but when _I_ wanna do it, I’m putting myself in ‘emotional turmoil.’”

“Cas, you know goddamn well you’re a lot more sensitive than I am! This whole thing will turn ugly and you’ll end up…”

“I’ll end up what?” Charlie covered his mouth with his good hand and shook his head. “Oh, no. It’s too late for silence now. I’ll end up what?” Charlie looked away. “Goddammit, Charles!”

He gently shrugged his shoulders and looked at his feet. “In the same situation you were with Greg.” He looked back at her. Cassie’s mouth hung open but no words came out. Her eyes fluttered and she exhaled a light laugh before looking away. “Cas…,” he gently said as he walked towards her. “Cassie…I…,” he put his hand on her shoulder and she shook it off.

“You had to do it, didn’t you? You _had_ to bring that shit up.”

“Cas, I’m not trying to open old wounds. I swear. I’m just—”

“You swore we wouldn’t talk about that _ever_ again!”

“Cassie, I—”

“And now you’re bringing it up just to hurt me?”

“I’m not! Really! I just…I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You didn’t lose me!”

“I almost did!”

“Almost! I-I-I was nineteen! I was young and stupid and my whole life revolved around some guy!”

“And going to this party to fuck with Tom is different how?”

“I’m stronger now.”

“That’s what you said last time! And look what happened then!” Charlie saw the hurt look on Cassie’s face and immediately regretted his words. “Cas…”

“Go to hell, Charles.” Her voice cracked as she spoke.

“Cassie, please, listen to me. I’m—”

“No. You can go straight to hell!” Her voice was more resilient now. She pushed pass him and headed for the bedroom.

“Don’t walk away, Cas,” he called after her but she wouldn’t stop. He followed her. “Cassie, I’m sorry I brought that up.”

“No, you’re not. You wanted to get one in on me,” she said as she opened the closet and pulled down a dress from the hanger and laid it on the bed.

“I really didn’t. Cassie…You don’t understand how hard it was to find you—”

“I swear to god, Charles, if you say another word,” she said through her teeth

He put his hands up. “Okay. Okay. Just…” She sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes before digging through a box labeled “SHOES” and pulling out a few pairs. “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting my clothes ready for the party tonight.” She opened another box marked “OTHA SHIT” and pulled out a few pairs of panties and leggings.

“So you’re still gonna go?” Cassie continued digging through the box but didn’t respond. Charlie groaned loudly. “Fine!” He started to leave but stopped short. He turned back to her. “You know…I don’t know why I try to talk to you sometimes. Because you’re just gonna do what you want.” She remained silent. “Go to that party, Cas. And when you run into that asshole and shit goes downhill—and it will—don’t come back here expecting a shoulder to cry on. Because I won’t give it to you.” She still didn’t reply. She walked to the closet and removed a gift bag from the bottom and gently placed it on the bed. “I mean it, Cas!”

She headed for the door but Charlie blocked the exit. “Please move,” she said with an annoyed sigh.

“Did…did you hear what I said,” he asked.

“I heard you.” She pushed pass him, entered the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.

Charlie leaned his head against the bedroom doorframe and let out a string of curses under his breath. This party was a bad idea. He knew it and he suspected that deep down Cassie knew it as well. Part of him wanted to wash his hands clean of the entire situation and just let her go; but the other part of him knew he wouldn’t forgive himself if something _did_ happen and he wasn’t there to help her. “Fuck,” he mumbled. He walked to the bathroom and knocked on the door. She didn’t open—he didn’t think she would, honestly. “Cas, you win.”

She opened the door and poked her head out. “It wasn’t about winning, Charles.”

“I know! I know,” he quickly conceded. He didn’t want to argue any more. “Poor word choice. I just meant…I’ll go with you.”

“Okay,” she said. “We leave at eight.”

\-----------

Tom saw her the moment she entered the party. She wore a bright pink sleeveless dress and her reddish-brown curls hung in cascade down her shoulders. She looked absolutely stunning. Two weeks ago he would have walked up to her, wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her before reveling in the envy of the onlooking partiers. Now, however, he could only tense his jaw in muted jealously as he watched her laugh and flirt with random male guests.

“Another one,” the bartender asked him.

“Hmm? Oh, um, yes please.”

“That’s your fourth one,” Chris’ deep voice said from behind him.

“Fifth,” Tom corrected before taking a large gulp of his whiskey sour.

“So you’re just going to sit here and get pissed while you watch her move on?”

Tom rolled his eyes and finished off his drink. When he first arrived, Chris had immediately questioned where Cassie was. He wanted to give him a weak excuse about how she was sick or couldn’t get out of work but he found that he didn’t have the energy to do so. “We broke up,” he had casually said before handing him a large gift box.

“What,” Chris yelled.

Before he could ask any follow up questions, Tom put his finger up and said, “It’s your birthday, mate. Only smiles tonight. You can ask me anything you want tomorrow.” He gave him a friendly tap on the shoulder and headed straight for the bar. Tom spent the next forty minutes drinking away his guilt.

“Another one, mate, please,” Tom told the bartender now.

“No,” Chris said. “I think you’ve reach your limit tonight, Tom.”

Tom turned to face Chris and, when he did, saw Cassie now standing in the corner talking to a guy. The guy ran the back of his hand down her bare arm and she responded with a smile before biting her bottom lip. “Not yet,” Tom finally responded to Chris before signaling the bartender for a refill.

Chris looked behind him and saw the display between Cassie and the guy. He turned back to Tom and sighed before saying, “If you take a drink every time some dude talks to her, you’re going to get alcohol poisoning before the night’s up.” Tom chuckled and took a swallow of his drink. “Look, instead of sitting here why don’t you—”

“Why don’t _you_ go dance with your wife and leave me the fuck alone.” Tom swallowed the last of his drink and signaled the bartender for his seventh.

The bartender hesitantly grabbed the glass from in front of Tom and looked at Chris. Chris reluctantly nodded his head and the bartender proceeded to make Tom another drink. “Have fun destroying your fucking liver, Tom.”

“Will do,” Tom replied with a faux smile and a lift of his glass. Tom spent the next thirty minutes scowling as he watched Cassie. She was now on the dance floor rolling her body around to the beat of the music with Chris Evans. Somehow, above all the other guys he had saw her with tonight, watching her with _him_ angered him the most. Even though Chris never said it aloud, Tom knew that he had a thing for Cassie. Now that she was single, Chris could act upon his desires. Tom’s mind suddenly filled with images of Chris’ lips on Cassie’s, his hands running down her soft skin, her arms wrapped around his neck moaning out _his_ name. Tom squeezed his eyes shut and tried to shake the image away but it wouldn’t budge. “Oh, lord…,” he said as he rubbed his lids. When he reopened his eyes Chris and Cassie had stopped dancing. He said something to her that made her giggle before heading in Tom’s direction.

Cassie watched Chris walk towards the bar and, for the first time all evening, her and Tom’s eyes met. She had been secretly watching him on and off most of the night to gauge his reaction to her constant overt flirting with the other guests. Seeing him wallow in the knowledge that she could have any man there filled her with joy. Except… now as they continued to stare at one another she realized the flaw in her game plan: underneath all her anger and hurt lay some desire. It was small but strong enough that if he were to march up to her she wouldn’t know if she’d greet him with a slap or a kiss. She turned her head and broke their gaze.

Tom still watched her. His attention was only called away by Chris Evans. “Hey, Tom! Haven’t spoken to you all night.”

“Evans,” Tom coldly greeted as he turned to the drink in his hand.

Chris noticed the harshness in Tom’s voice but ignored it. “Why aren’t you out on the dance floor,” he asked trying to steer his mood. “We usually have to drag you off the floor.”

“It’s too crowded.”

Chris looked back at the relatively sparse floor. “Oh…kay.” He turned to the bartender. “A scotch and a Malibu and Sprite, please.”

Tom finally turned his head in Chris’ direction when he heard the drink order. “Malibu and Sprite? That’s Cassie’s drink.”

“Yeah.” He turned and saw the intense look on Tom’s face. “Hey, man, it’s not like that. She asked me to dance and get her something to drink. I mean, I know you two are a thing.”

“Yeah, well, not anymore,” Tom mumbled before downing the last of his drink.

“What was that?”

“I said, ‘not anymore.’ We broke up.”

“Really? When?”

“Two weeks ago.”

“Two weeks?” Chris assumed the lack of affection between the two was due to wanting to keep the relationship private. “Huh,” he said before taking a sip of his scotch.

“What does that mean. ‘Huh.’”

“Nothing. It’s just…,” Chris looked back at Cassie who was now chatting with Chris Hemsworth’s wife, Elsa, “sucks, I guess.”

Tom noticed a small smile crook in the corner of Chris’ mouth as he watched Cassie. “Yeah, you’re pity’s overwhelming.”

“What?”

“I bet you couldn’t wait for things to end so you could weasel your way in there.”

“The hell are you talking about, Tom?”

“I know you like Cassie. I bet it kills you to know I got to her first. That I know what how that beautiful body looks naked. That I know what it’s like to have her nails rake down my back while I’m deep inside her.” He leaned in closer to Chris. “That I know what she tastes like. You’ll just be sloppy seconds to her, mate.”

Chris’ grip on his glass of scotch tightened. He clenched his jaw and looked at the bartender who was intently listening on their conversation. He returned his focus on Tom and said, “I’m going to blame what you just said on the fact that you’re drunk. Otherwise I might have to hit you in that big goddamn mouth of yours.”

Tom laughed bitterly at the threat and shook his glass at the bartender for another refill. “Nah, man,” the bartender said. “I’m pretty sure you had enough.”

“Call yourself a cab, Hiddleston,” Chris said, “before you make even more of an ass of yourself.”

Tom watched Chris walk back to Cassie and hand her the mixed drink he ordered her. He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders before pointing back at Tom. The smile fell from her face as she looked at him. She returned her focus to Chris and mouthed some words to him as she placed a hand on his shoulder. That little touch that, to anyone else, would obviously be seen as comforting enraged him. He wanted to march over there and drag her away. He wanted to fight Chris and every guy she was with for daring to talk to her. ”Oh, god…,” he said as he ran his hands down his face. “I’m a mess.” He needed fresh air to clear his mind. He gave one last glance in Cassie’s direction before turning and exiting to the outside balcony area of the club.

\-----------

Tom looked out at the glittering lights of the Los Angeles skyline. The city was twice as beautiful at night yet Tom couldn’t appreciate it. “Fuck,” he yelled out as he clasped the railing in front of him. “Fuck!”

“Tom?”

The sound of her voice made his heart skip. He slowly turned to face her. “Cassie…,” he whispered.

“What the hell did you say to Chris?”

He groaned at the mention of Chris. “I should’ve known you’d be concerned about _him_.”

“Him…,” she took a couple of steps closer, “and you. I don’t know what you said to him but you really pissed him off. Chris is your friend and you—”

“And what is he to you?”

“What?”

“Why are you so worried about our friendship, huh?”

“Because Chris is my friend, too, and I care about him.”

“Just him,” Tom scoffed.

“And you.” She bit her lip and quickly regretted her words.

“Oh, you still care about me, Cassie?”

“Tom, please…”

“You care about me _so much_ that you flirted with every asshole that looked your way!”

She chuckled. “I sure did! Even with guys I wasn’t interested in because I knew you were watching. And I enjoyed every fucking minute of it!”

“Yeah, but you care about me so.”

“Ya know, I don’t understand why you’re so fucking upset anyway! _You_ broke up with _me_ , remember that?”

“Goddammit, Cas, I had my reasons!”

“I’m sure you thought you did, Tom! It bet it was the best sounding bullshit you ever heard, too! You’re such a goddamn hypocrite, Tom! You clearly don’t want me and you don’t want anyone else to want me!”

“You fucking just said that you were only talking to half of those assholes to make me jealous! And when it works you want to call _me_ out?”

“Go to hell!”

“I’m already in hell, Cas!” He enclosed the distance between them. “Every goddamn second of every goddamn day I am in hell!”

“No.” She took a step back. “You don’t get to do this, Tom. You don’t get to act like this was some mutual wrong. You broke _my_ heart! I really love you and you pushed me away!”

“What did you say?”

“Oh so now you can’t hear me?”

“No, no. You said ‘love’ present tense.”

“Goddammit…Me loving you wasn’t the issue and you know it.”

“But you still love me.” He laughed. “Those other motherfuckers don’t stand a chance because you’re…still…mine…”

“Wow,” she said in disbelief. “I mean…wow. We’re discussing our broken relationship and you’re,” she shook her head and ran a hand through her curls, “and you’re worried about some random guys?” She began to pace the balcony. “Ya know what? This is my fault. You’re obviously too fucking drunk to have an adult conversation right now and anything I’m saying is just a waste of my goddamn breath. So I’m leaving.” She began to walk away.

“Don’t you want to know how I feel?” Tom spoke so softly that Cassie almost didn’t hear him.

She stopped walking and turned back to him. “You already made it really fucking clear how you feel about me. And I don’t want any drunken additions to that. So thanks but I’m good.”

He marched up to her. “Cas…”

“No, Tom, don’t come any closer to me.”

“Cassie…” He stretched his arms out to touch her.

She stepped back. “I swear to god, Tom, don’t you fucking touch me…” He grabbed her wrists but she jerked away. “I fucking mean it…” He reached out for her again. She tried to snatch away again but he was too fast and held her wrist close to his chest.

“Cas, I—” His thought was cut off by a slap that was so strong it caused his head to snap to the left. “Fuck,” he exclaimed as he rubbed his sore cheek.

“I fucking warned you!” Foolishly persistent, Tom reached out for her again. She tried to slap him again but he grabbed her wrist and held it tight. She tried with the other hand but he managed to capture that one as well. “Let me—”

Her protest was cut off by Tom’s pressing his lips against hers. That small desire within her grew and she gave in to the kiss. Tom’s grasp on her wrists loosened and one of his hands moved to the back of her head while the other wrapped around her waist and pulled her close. She closed her arms around his neck and his hands dropped to her ass. He squeezed both cheeks before lifting her. She wrapped her legs around him and he took a few strides forward until her back was firmly pressed up against the outside wall of the club. Tom’s lips moved from hers to her neck. She closed her eyes and panted as he licked and nibbled her neck. He trailed his tongue up from her neck and across her jaw line. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered in her ear.

Her eyes shot open at the words. She suddenly remembered where they were and that she was, in spite of what had just taken place, still very upset with him. “Tom…stop.” She placed her hands on his shoulders and tried to push him way yet he to kiss the side of her face. She pushed his face away and slapped him again. She unwrapped her legs from around his waist. “Get off me.”

He held the side of his face and stepped backwards. “Cas, let me—”

She held a finger up and cut him off. “I told you before I’m not a damn yo-yo.” She adjusted her dress and headed for the exit. She pulled opened the door and, turned back to him, and added, “Stay the hell away from me.”

“Cas,” he yelled after her but she disappeared inside the club. “Cas,” he called again as he followed her inside but she ignored him and continued walking through the building. “Cassie!” She only stopped to say something to Chris Hemsworth. She gave one final look back at Tom before leaving out the club entrance with a scowling Charlie following behind her. “Cassie, wait!” He headed for the entrance but Chris grabbed his arm and stopped him.

“Let her go, Tom.”

“No, I—”

“Let her go!”

Tom looked around at the rest of the party which was now watching the commotion in curiosity. Tom jerked his arm free from Chris’ grip and swore aloud. He marched to the bar. “Double scotch on the rocks.”

“Nah, man. I cut you off.”

Tom reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet and slammed it on the bar. “Consider whatever’s in there your tip. Now…double scotch on the rocks. Please.”


	14. Chapter 14

The incessant beeping sound of his cell alarm awoke Tom with an agitated groan. He turned his head in order to find where the noise was coming from and immediately regretted doing so. The light movement caused his head to throb in pain. He groaned again and mumbled curses to himself at the annoying sound of his alarm. He inhaled sharply and rolled over onto his back; when he did the throbbing in his head worsened into a heavy pounding headache. He cursed himself again. He tried moving his limbs but to no avail; they felt as if they weighed a ton. Even his eyelids felt heavy. He managed to open one to get a peak of his environment but the bright glare from the sun pouring into the room made him quickly shut it again. He hadn’t had a hangover this bad since his junior year in college when his friends challenged him to drink an entire bottle of Jameson by himself. (He could never back down from a challenge even if he should).

He remained lying in agony in bed until the urge it pee overtook him. “Fuck,” he croaked; his throat was dry and scratchy. He cleared his throat but the hoarseness in it remained. He was in a dilemma. He could stay in bed and pee on himself like a four-year-old or he could force himself out of the bed and into the bathroom. “Fucking fuck.” He wiggled in the bed trying his best to roll over on one side. He figured he had a better chance of pulling himself up on his side than sitting straight up. He continued to rock from side to side on the bed until he finally succeeded in rolling right off it and onto the floor. “Ow,” he whimpered out at against the hardwood. He turned his head to one side and enjoyed the coolness of the floor. He again debated on if he should just say “fuck it” and pee himself or attempt to move again. He only drunkenly wet himself once and that was back when he was at Eaton and he and a couple of friends snuck in a few drinks. He passed out at some point doing the evening and awoke with a wet crotch. (Luckily his friends were still sleeping when he made the discovery and managed to sneak out of the room without getting caught).

Those drunken antics might have been fun at the time—even if the after affects weren’t—but he was no longer fifteen or twenty; besides getting pissed alone was never any fun; just sad. “Okay,” he pepped himself, “You can do this.” He placed his palms on the floor and pushed up with a grunt. He held to the edge of the bed and rose to his feet. He squinted at the bright sunlight that filled the room and tried to block his face causing himself to nearly topple at the movement. He leaned against the bed to steady himself. Once he had semi-successfully erected his tall frame—his weight feeling like it had tripled and nearly caused his knees to buckle under him—he made a staggering beeline for the door. He rested against the frame for a few seconds before opening the door and entering the hall.

He leaned against the wall and slowly trudged down the hall. _I don’t remember the bathroom being this far away_ , he thought as he continued walking. He passed a door on the right and opened it hoping to see his office but only found a linen closet. For a quick second he thought that, in his drunken stupor, he had forgotten the layout of his apartment. Then he remembered that he didn’t go home last night but was carried out of the club by Chris Hemsworth. “Fuck,” he grunted as he tried to recall the layout of his friend’s home. He continued down the hall a little ways and came to the door that led to the main floor bathroom. He held onto the knob and knocked on the door. When he heard no response, he entered the bathroom and relieved himself. He flushed and washed his hands before splashing some cool water on his face. He looked up into the mirror at the water dripping off his features and sighed at his bloodshot eyes. He patted his face dry with a nearby towel and exited.

When he returned to the hall he heard conversation coming from the living area. He shuffled towards the noise and saw Chris and Elsa sitting on the terrace. He walked out to greet them. “Good morning,” he said as he lifted a hand over his eyes to block out the sun.

“I think you mean ‘afternoon,’” Elsa corrected him as she pointed to the watch on her wrists. “It’s after one o’clock.”

“Oh,” Tom said dully. He should really be upset at the late hour especially since he still had final arrangements to make before he left for London next week. “I should probably go. I have a lot of things to do before Tuesday.”

“I don’t think you can drive yet, mate,” Chris said with a hearty laugh that made the throbbing in Tom’s head worsen. “You can barely stand.” He pulled out the chair next to him and Tom winced as it scrapped against the ground. “Here have a seat. My assistant went to get us some lunch. You like Vietnamese?”

Tom nodded weakly as he sat in the offered chair. “Thank you,” he croaked. He cleared his throat but, again, the hoarseness remained.

“Do you want something to drink, Thomas,” Elsa asked. “Hair of the dog, perhaps?”

“Oh, god, no. Water would be just fine.” She smiled before rising and disappearing into the house.

“So,” Chris began, “you had a fun night, didn’t you?”

“Please, let’s not talk about it. Everything hurts.”

“It should. I’m pretty sure you drank the entire bar yourself.” Tom gave an airy chuckle at the comment and immediately regretted it. He moaned as he gently laid his head in his hands. “You’re lucky you’re in pain, Tom,” Chris said as he watched his friend.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Because if you weren’t I would probably slap you all across this house.”

Tom rotated his head slightly and eyed his friend. “What?”

“Oh, should I repeat myself?”

“Yeah, I think you should.”

“If your head wasn’t already pounding like a drum, Tom, I would slap you until it did.”

“What the fuck, Chris? Whatever did I do to you?”

“Well, you single handedly ruined my party with your asshole antics.”

“I ruined it,” Tom asked incredulously. “How did I ruin it?”

“Are you fucking serious? You were a jerk to everyone—including me. Evans wanted to knock your teeth out! And Cassie…,” his voice trailed off.

“What about Cassie?”

“You mean you don’t remember,” Elsa asked as she placed a glass of ice water in front of Tom and retook her seat.

“It hurts to think right now, Elsa.”

She sighed. “You two got in an argument, I guess, then she stormed out the door and Chris had to stop you from chasing her.”

“Shit,” he murmured under his breath as he began to rub his temples. The memory of the previous evening came back to him in a rush: the rising jealousy of seeing her flirt with nearly every guy at the party; stewing in anger as she danced with Chris Evans; walking out to the balcony for a moment before hearing Cassie; the argument; the slap; then suddenly the feeling of her lips on his, her warm breath, her invading tongue; then another slap finally followed by that pained look in her eye. _I’m not your damn yo-yo._ “Shit,” he repeated as he ran his hands through his hair.

“Yeah. ‘Shit,’” Elsa said as she shook her head. “I-I just don’t understand what happened. I mean, Cassie was happy. She was laughing, dancing. She was the life of the party and then she went to check on you and five minutes later she was upset. What did you say to her?”

Tom took a sip of his water and leaned back in his chair. “Nothing,” he lied. He turned and looked out at the landscape. The sun was still shining bright in his eyes but he ignored it. He would much rather try to focus his attention on the cityscape than at the conversation at hand.

“Bullshit,” Chris replied. “‘Nothing’ doesn’t make a woman storm out of a building nearly in tears. What did you do to her?”

“Nothing,” Tom exclaimed. He turned back to his friend and gently shook his head and sighed. “I…I just told her that I missed her.”

Chris and Elsa looked at one another. “That’s all,” Elsa asked in disbelief. “You said you missed her and she just…left?”

“No,” Chris answered for Tom. “There’s more but he won’t tell us.”

“Listen, I—”

“He won’t tell us because he knows he fucked up—probably very badly—and he knows that I’ll probably get upset and hit him.”

“You’re not going to hit me, Chris.”

“You’re right. I’m not. So just tell me the truth. What did you really say to Cas?”

“That was it.” Chris and Elsa gave him looks that said that neither of them believed him. “Fine,” Tom relented. “I…She…We were talking, at first, then we started kissing and I told her I missed her between kisses.”

There was a momentary silence as Chris and his wife exchanged looks. “Well,” Chris said with a huff as he folded his arms across his chest, “I promised that I wouldn’t hit you. However, I said nothing about _her._ ”

Suddenly Elsa slapped Tom hard across the back of his head causing him to yell out in pain. “What the fuck?”

“You stupid, stupid…” she called out as she repeatedly slapped him.

“Ow! Goddammit, Chris! Can you—ow!—get your wife, please!”

“Nope. She looks like she doing fine on her own,” Chris smirked.

“¡Idiota!” Elsa continued to smack him until Tom (finally) got tired of the abuse and gently grabbed her wrists. “¡Suéltame!”

“No! Not until you promise to not hit me again.”

“Okay. I promise.” Tom eyed her suspiciously as he released his grip on her wrists. As soon as he did she gave him one last smack on his head and returned to her seat. Tom winced at the pain before scowling at her and Chris. They both were unfazed by his angered look. “What the hell is wrong with you, Thomas? First you break up with her then you make out with her. No wonder the poor girl stormed out! She’s confused! Hell _I’m_ confused.”

“I knew this was going to happen,” Chris chimed in.

“Please, Chris. Don’t. Alright? I’m still hurting from your wife’s attack.”

Chris gave no mind to Tom’s request and repeated, “I knew it! I said from day one to not go there with her! I warned you not to date her! I knew! I even fucking _told_ you that you were shit at relationships but you did it anyway and now look where you are!”

“Don’t yell at me, Chris, please.” Tom rubbed his temples. “It’s doing my head in.”

“Big fucking deal! I swear I don’t understand you. You liked Cas—I know you did—but then you pushed her away—”

“There was more to it than that!”

“I’m sure that’s the bullshit you tell yourself to help you sleep but I know you, Tom. I. Know. You. She got too close and things got too serious and you ran like you always do.”

“Why do you do that, Tom,” Elsa asked. “Don’t you want to be happy?”

“Of course I do, Elsa, it’s just…” He tried to figure out how to finish his thought but he couldn’t. Usually he had a plethora of excuses for his actions but now none of them seemed right. He could tell them that youth was the reason he pulled away from Briony. He was just too young to commit to a serious relationship. He could tell them things were moving way too fast for him and Kat. He had fallen hard in such a short period of time. Both of these excuses were perfectly logical and true but what about Cassie? He was no longer the nineteen-year-old boy that left young Briony’s love unrequited. And he and Cassie had known each other for a year before even pursuing a relationship. The truth was even he wasn’t sure why he ran from commitment. He wasn’t sure why when it came to the subject of love his chest would ache as if the weight of a thousand men were sitting on it. Worst of all, he wasn’t sure why he kept pushing and pulling Cassie. He wanted to be with her and yet run from her. His desires and whatever fear that usually drove him was constantly at war when it came to her.

“Tom,” Chris softly said, “listen, you’re my brother and I love you but you can’t keep doing this. You need to decide what you want because this shit you’re doing just isn’t working.”

“Yeah. I know.” Tom took another sip of water before rising.

“Wait, you’re not leaving, are you,” Elsa asked.

“Yeah. I should go.”

“Tom,” Chris added, his tone slightly annoyed, “you don’t have to go. We promise we won’t bring the Cassie thing up again. Stay for lunch. Robert will be back any minute.”

“No. I really have to go. I still have a lot of shit to do before Tuesday.”

“Well, at least stay long enough for us to call you a cab,” Elsa said. Tom exhaled a long sigh. He had forgotten that he hadn’t driven there. He conceded with a nod and sat back down. Elsa disappeared once again inside of the house in search of the phone. For the next twenty minutes while he waited for the cab none of them spoke another word.

\---------------

Cassie sat at Charlie’s small square table staring out of the window with a drink in her hand. She swirled the glass making the melting ice within it clink against the sides. She took a sip of the watered down—yet still pretty strong—alcohol before brushing away a curl of her hair that was blown into her eyes by the incoming breeze. She heard the apartment door open but didn’t turn. She knew it was Charlie. “Hey,” she said coolly before taking another sip. “Have a great meeting?”

Charlie exhaled an exasperated sigh. “Yeah.” He placed his keys on the nearby counter and walked up to the table. He lifted the bottle of vodka and read the label. “How many of these did you have?”

“This is my second.”

He nodded and replaced the bottle on the table. “So…,” he started cautiously, “you decided not to go to work after all?”

“Please don’t start, Charles.”

“I swear I’m not trying to. I just…” He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed the lids. “Nevermind.”

She finally turned to him. “‘Nevermind’? Wow. In all the years that I’ve known you, Charlie, you’ve never just let anything go. You’re usually so damn stubborn.”

“ _I’m_ stubborn? You’re the one—wait, no. I’m not doing this. You’re obviously not sober and I’m not falling into this trap.” He turned and walked into the kitchen.

“First of all, I already told you I only had two drinks. Second of all, what the hell are you talking ‘bout? What ‘trap’?”

“You know what I’m talking about, Cas,” Charlie said while opening the fridge and pulling out a pack of lunch meats and the mayonnaise.

“If I did I wouldn’t have asked you to explain.” Charlie sighed as he pulled down a plate from the cabinet before opening the package of bread that sat on the counter. “Charlie!”

“Fine!” He finally turned his attention to her. “You call me stubborn—and maybe I am—but you’re the one who won’t listen to reason. We argued for nearly twenty minutes yesterday about why Hemsworth’s party was a bad idea but—”

“I knew it! I knew the ‘I told you so’ was coming! You were just too quiet last night.”

“See? That shit right there is why I can’t talk to you, Cas! And it’s even worse when you’re drunk!”

“I only had two drinks!”

“Two?” He marched up to the table and lifted the bottle. This was nearly full when I left this morning and now it’s half gone. Must’ve been some really big drinks!” He yanked the small glass from her hand and threw it to the floor causing it to shatter.

“Asshole!” He stalked back to the kitchen, unscrewed the top of the bottle, and began to pour the rest down the sink. Cassie sprung up from her seat. “What are you doing?” She tried to grab the bottle back from him but he blocked her with his elbow. “You asshole! I paid for that!”

“Yeah, with the money from the job you don’t go to!”

“It was one day, you bastard!”

He threw the rest of the bottle in the sink causing the spout to break off and the side to crack but not break. “Today it’s one day! Tomorrow will be another! And then the next day and the next and then I’m gonna find you face down—”

“Goddammit! I told you not to mention that again!” She stormed into his bedroom. He followed behind her and stopped short when he saw her pull a bottle filled with blue liquid of a bag.

“Fucking hell, Cas. What? You just went to the nearest store and bought out all the liquor?” She said nothing as she unscrewed the top and took a swallow of the alcohol. She coughed at the feeling of it burning her throat. Charlie muttered another curse before yanking the bottle from her hand.

“Take it! I have plenty more where that came from!” She reached for the bag but Charlie scooped it up first and stormed out of the room with it. “Give it back,” she yelled after him as she followed him out the door. He placed the bag on the counter and began to pour the liquor out of the bottle in his hand. She grabbed for the bag but he put his body between her and it.

“I’m not gonna sit around and watch you drink your life away over some asshole who doesn’t deserve it!”

“You think this is about _Tom_ ,” she laughed bitterly. “My whole world is fucked! My career is shit! My work was destroyed by my best friend who also hates the very sound of my name! I have nowhere to live! And the cherry on the shitcake that is my life…I am still in love with a man who doesn’t know if he wants me or not. So forgive me for wanting to forget this hell I’m living in.” She held her hand out and signaled for the bottles of liquor. Charlie shook his head. “Goddammit, Charles!”

“No! Things are bad for you right now, I understand that but—”

“Oh, god, you have no idea how much I’m _not_ in the mood for this shit today,” she mumbled.

“But,” he continued, “this isn’t the way! I won’t sit let you destroy yourself. Not again.”

“‘Destroy myself’? Says the man who literally broke his fucking hand! Give me my shit, you fucking hypocrite!”

“No. You can curse me, yell at me, hit me but I’m not giving you this bag.”

She grabbed his broken hand. “Give it to me or I swear to god I’ll make this hand forever useless.”

“We both know you won’t do that.”

He was right. She could never hurt him. She gently lowered his hand. “Fine. Throw them away. I’ll just buy some more.”

“And I’ll get rid of those as well. I mean it, Cas. I won’t watch you go down this road again. I’ll die first.”

“Charlie…” Her voice was low and cracked as if she was on the verge of crying. “Please. I need it.”

“No you don’t. This is what you need.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She leaned her head against his chest. She found his warmth comforting. Tears begin to well up in her eyes and closed them to avoid giving into a cry; yet she failed and felt her eyes sting as the tears fell down the curve of her cheek and onto his shirt. Once the floodgates were open she couldn’t stop and began to sob. “Shh,” Charlie cooed. “I’m here. It’s okay.” He continued trying to comfort her but deep down he knew that everything wouldn’t, in fact, be okay. He knew that things were only going to get worse from here. He rested his head atop her curls and held her tighter. “It’ll all be okay.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains an account of suicide. Take that into consideration before you proceed.

Charlie sat outside of the apartment building in his uncle’s old pickup. He had debated all night and most of the morning on whether he should do this; if he should be here. A part of him told him to just let it go. This, after all, wasn’t any of his business. Cassie was a grown woman and had made her own decisions—good and bad—and she had to deal with them. She didn’t need him playing “Mr. Fix-It” for her. Yet the other part of him wouldn’t let him leave. It wouldn’t let him just drive away without doing _something_. It wouldn’t let him leave without trying. That part cared too much for Cassie as well as feared for her.

She always reminded him of his sister Sara. They were both tiny, funny, and full of love. Another thing they both shared, the thing that drew him to Cassie in the first place, were those sad eyes. Sara didn’t always use to be so sad. Her large green eyes used to sparkle with the carefree wonder a young girl should have. As they grew, however, that shine dulled with every passing day. The last time he saw her was his sophomore year of college.

She had appeared at his dorm unexpectedly—he didn’t even know she knew which hall he stayed in let alone the room number. It was a little after nine thirty that night when she banged on his door. The dorm had a “no visitors after ten” policy but he couldn’t—and wouldn’t—kick his baby sister out. “Sara, how did you get here? Does mom and dad know you’re here?”

She only laughed in response before diving on his bed and demanding he tell her a story. “Just like you used to when we were little. Tell me the one about Princess Sara again. I love that one.”

“What? No, Sara, you can’t be here.”

“So what? You’re just gonna kick me out? Or calls Krista and Charles to come get me?”

He sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. “No, munchkin, I’m not gonna kick you out. Or call mom and dad—by the way when did you start calling them by their first names?”

“Does it matter?” She hopped up off the bed and inspected his room. “I like your place. Can I crash here a couple of days?”

“You can stay here for the night but tomorrow I’m driving you back home after my classes.”

She pouted. “But—”

He held up his index finger and interjected, “No buts. I have a very busy schedule and I can’t babysit you, kid. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not a kid!”

“You’re thirteen! You’re the very definition of a kid!”

She huffed and folded her arms across her chest. “Whatever. I thought you would at least be happy to see me.”

“C’mere,” Charlie said as he outstretched his hands. Sara continued to pout and wouldn’t move so he walked up to her and embraced her. “Listen, little one,” he said as he rested his head atop her dark black, curly mane, “I’m _always_ happy to see you but… you can’t just pop up here whenever. It’s really dangerous.” He kissed her forehead before pulling back and looking into her face. “Look at these freckles!” He wrapped an arm around her neck and pinned her to him. “I bet I can still map out the Big Dipper!” He began tracing her freckles with his finger and she gave a squealing laugh as she fought against him.

“Charlie, don’t! No!”

They continued wrestling for a few more minutes before Charlie finally let her go. “Have you eaten?”

“No,” she said breathlessly as she adjusted her clothes and fixed her hair.

Charlie made a disapproving face at her response before looking at his watch. “The SUB will be open until eleven. I’ll go run and get you something. You stay here. Don’t leave the room—not even to pee—and don’t touch anything!” She gave a mocking look and he gave a stern one in return causing them both to laugh. He gave her another kiss on the forehead and re-ruffled her hair before exiting the room. The trudge to and from the SUB was hell because of the chilly late February air and that was only made worse by the fact that it had rained earlier that evening. By the time he returned to his dorm room muttering curses at God for the weather, he found his sister passed out on his bed in a deep slumber. He placed the food he brought for her in his mini fridge and covered her up. He watched her for a few moments before returning to his desk to finish studying; yet he couldn’t focus. Every so often he would look up from his notes or the textbook and look back at her. Why did she really come? There was something on her mind. Something more important than just wanting to visit him. Something that she was running from. He figured he would take her out to lunch tomorrow after his noon class and convince her to divulge whatever it was to him.

The next morning he awoke in pain. He slept on the ratty couch in the common area that he and his dorm mate shared. “Ugh! I’m never sleeping on a couch again,” he said as he cracked his back. He arose and shuffled to his room and was surprised to find his sister wide awake. “Hey, munchkin. I, uh—ow!—I’m gonna take a shower and get ready for my class. Remember—”

“Don’t leave the room and don’t touch anything! I heard you the first time, _dad_.”

Charlie rolled his eyes then grabbed a fresh pair of boxers and his bag of toiletries before heading to the communal bathroom. He returned thirty minutes later and shooed his sister out of the room while he dressed. He grabbed his bookbag and stuffed it with his textbooks and binder. He muttered to himself while glancing around the room to see if he had everything—it was a given that he didn’t since he always left forgetting something. “Okay,” he said once he was ready to leave. “The shower is down the hall to the right. Try to take one before ten. The footballers usually get in around noon and I don’t want you anywhere near them. You can wear a pair of my pajamas they’re in the top drawer. I’ll take you to the laundry when I get back. Um, let’s see…what else? Oh! There’s a burger I got you last night in the fridge. The microwave is in the common area. You’re gonna have to hold the door—just press up against it—so it’ll start; also, the timer doesn’t really work so you’re gonna have to use the egg timer on my desk. I should be back around one thirty. Did you get all that?”

Sara nodded and smiled before rising on her toes and planting a kiss on his cheek. “I want to give you something.”

“Can’t you just give it to me when I get back?”

“No. I gotta give it to you now.” She removed the charm bracelet from her wrist and handed it to him.

“Munchkin, I gave you this for your sixth birthday. It’s _way_ too late to give it back,” he joked.

“I’m not giving it back. I want you to have it because I love you. It’s the only valuable thing I own and I want you to have it.”

He looked at the bracelet in his hand and thumbed the charms on it. She had added more. There were currently fourteen on it—one for each year she was alive plus one to grow on. “I-I don’t get it, Sara. Why would you—”

“Shh. Just take it. Besides if you stay here arguing with me you’ll be late for class.”

He looked at his watch. She was right. If he stayed any longer he would have to jog across the large campus just to get to class on time and there was no way in hell he was going to do that. “Shit. Okay. I’ll hold this for you,” he rolled the bracelet onto his left wrist, “and when you decide you want it back you know where to find me.” She smiled, gave him another peck on the cheek, and told him she loved him before waving him out the door.

He sniffled and rubbed the tip of his cold nose as he made his way towards his first class. Normally his mind would be focused on the biology test that he was unprepared for, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Sara. An odd feeling grew in the pit of his stomach with each step that he took. There was something different about her. Something he just couldn’t place. He nodded at a couple of classmates who greeted him before dropping his eyes to the bracelet on his wrist. _It’s the only valuable thing I own. I want you to have it._ Something about that phrase…the way she said it…the look in her eyes. They were sad as if she would burst into tears at any moment.

He stopped at a crossing and awaited for the signal to tell him it was safe to journey through the traffic. His class was in the building on the other side of the street. _I’ll hold this for you. When you want it back you know where to find me._ The smile she gave him. Something about that smile. The traffic light turned red and the “WALK” signal blinked yet Charlie couldn’t move. He couldn’t go and sit in that class for the next fifty minutes; not when his mind was so preoccupied on his sister and her smile—it was almost…eerie—as was the whole strangeness of her visit.

She would never risk disobeying their parents—especially their father— _just_ to come see him. She wasn’t a rebel or a troublemaker. And she would _never_ part with that bracelet. He once offered to buy her a new chain because the old one was getting worn and she clutched it and held it to her chest. She would die before she let someone else even touch it. She would die…

And just like that it hit him. “Sara!” The cold slapped against his face as he ran back to his dorm. His chest constricted making it harder to breathe; the heaviness of his backpack weighed on his still sore back; his knees felt like they would give out at any minute. Yet he didn’t stop running. He couldn’t. He wasn’t sure if it was the fear of finding her harmed or the hope that he would get to her just in time that spurred him on but he knew the image of her face—round and slightly chubby, prominent nose, buck teeth that she hadn’t grown into yet, and those eyes—haunted him with each step. How could he have been so blind? He was so occupied with school and this new life he had made here that he was so eager to push her back out of it. Her! Of all people!

He ditched his bookbag somewhere along the way—the excess weight had finally become too much for him—when he took a quick break to catch his breath. He gave neither pardons nor apologizes as he pushed past the surrounding students that crowded the sidewalk. When he finally made it to his building he opted to take the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. By the time he made it to his floor he was out of breath, sweat stuck to his temple, his knees and back ached, and his chest felt as if his heart would bust out of it at any moment. He inhaled large gulps of air while he searched his pockets for his room key. When he finally found it he quickly unlocked his door and headed for his room.

The door was unlocked but he still couldn’t open it. He groaned as he pushed against it. He could hear something thump against the door. “Sara? Is that you? Open up. It’s me, Charlie.” He turned the knob and pushed against the door causing that thumping noise again. Panic arose in him. “Sara! Please, munchkin, open the door! Sara!” He frantically banged on the door. “Goddammit, Sara, please!”

“What’s going on?” Charlie turned and found his dorm mate, Richard, standing in the common area with a towel wrapped around his waist. It was clear he had just come from the shower. “Who’s Sara,” he asked as he ran a hand through his wet hair.

“Sh-she’s my sister. She won’t answer. I’m worried about her. Sara, please,” he resumed banging on the door. “Open up! Please!”

“Hold on. I’ll call the janitor. He can probably unhinge it. Let me put my robe on first.”

“Thank you.” Charlie continued knocking and calling out for his sister for the next fifteen minutes until the janitor appeared.

“Hold on now, son. I’ll get it.” Charlie moved out of the way and watched with bated breath as the tall muscular man surveyed the door. “I can’t get to the hinges.” He tried the knob. “It’s not locked,” he said to himself as he pushed his weight against the door. The door budged just enough for him to poke his head inside. “Dear God in Heaven,” he gasped before closing the door again.

“What are you doing,” Charlie yelled out before trying to enter his room.

The janitor held up his hand and kept Charlie back. “Naw, son, I can’t let you go in there.”

Charlie wouldn’t be deterred and fought against the older man. “My sister’s in there!”

“Son,” the janitor spoke softly, “you don’t want to see what’s in there. Trust me.” He looked at Richard. “Call the police.”

A part of Charlie knew, even while he was striking and yelling at the door, that she was already dead; yet it didn’t register until later when the EMTs had placed her on the gurney. Her skin still held its olive complexion yet there was a strange indentation on her neck from whatever object she used to hang herself with. Her eyes were still as green as they ever were but now they were cold as if life had never flashed behind them. She somehow looked even smaller and broken and it was all because of him. He should have stayed. He should have made her talk to him. He should have never ignored her. How many phone calls, emails and texts did he ignore before she made this impromptu visit? Hundreds? Thousands? “I’ll call her tomorrow,” he would say. Yet some other matter would take precedent and “tomorrow” was always pushed further and further back. Now it would never come.

To make matters worse, the news of Sara’s suicide spread throughout the campus like wildfire. Charlie had to suffer through the pity—faux and genuine—of seemingly every person on campus. He had been told to turn to every religion known to man for comfort; a local campus group called “The Left Behind” asked him to speak on his experiences and he nearly cursed them out in reply; the local and campus paper would not stop calling for an interview; and to top it all off, his sister’s death had morphed into an urban legend of sorts. In a year’s time he had heard his sister shot, poisoned, hung, stabbed and flung herself from the roof. Her age was always reported from anywhere from eight to eighteen—depending on who you asked, of course—but the worst of all were the those rude persons who said they had spotted her ghost roaming the dormitory halls weeping and moaning like some phantom of folklore. That, above all else, angered him the most. The only person being haunted was him and it wasn’t by some terrifying spirit but by his own guilt.

Perhaps his guilt was the reason that he was so protective of Cassie. He figured that what he couldn’t or didn’t do for his sister he could do for her. Even if that meant sitting outside of her ex-boyfriend’s apartment debating on if and how he should confront him. He took a deep breath before finally exiting the vehicle. The last time he was there was a couple of weeks ago when he helped Cassie remove her belongings. It took the both of them a little over an hour to grab and pack her things. He took the elevator to the third floor and made his way to Tom’s apartment. When he got there he saw that the door was open. He poked his head inside. The place was almost bare. The only remaining items seemed to be a couple of paintings hanging on the wall and a few books on the shelf. “Hello?” There was no answer. He entered the apartment and called out again, “Hello?”

“Charlie,” Tom called from behind him. “What are you doing here?” Charlie turned to face him. He stood in the doorway with a puzzled look on his face and a large empty cardboard box in his hand.

“I, uh, I…Are you moving?”

“Yeah. I, um, I-I have a movie to film. I’ll be gone for months. And since there’s no one here to watch the place I just figured it would be best to, uh…,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Did you, um, you guys forget something?”

“No, no. I actually came to talk to you.”

“About what,” Tom asked as he put the box on the ground. “Is it Cassie? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. No, wait, that’s a lie. She’s not fine, Tom, and I think you know that.”

Tom exhaled a heavy sigh and squeezed his eyes shut. He was not in the mood to be reminded of his failures. “Look, Charles, if you’re going to yell at me then at least grab a box and help me pack while you’re doing it, okay?”

“Help you—do you think this is a joke, Tom? Do you think what you’re putting Cassie through is funny?”

“Goddammit, Charles, of course not! I’m just sick and tired of everyone attacking me on every end. I just want one moment of fucking peace! It’s like everyone’s riding me!”

“I wonder why,” Charlie yelled in a sarcastic tone.

Tom rolled his eyes, grabbed the cardboard box off the floor and marched towards the book shelf. “So what,” he said as he began to toss the books into the box at his feet, “Cassie sicced you on me? Told you to tell me she still fucking hates me?”

“I’m not her fucking guard dog. And I came on my own.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“So, Cas, has no idea you’re here?” He paused and awaited Charlie’s reply but he continued to quietly glare at Tom. “I’m going to take your silence as a ‘yes.’” He dropped the book in his hand in the box and took a step towards Charlie. “How do you think she would feel if she knew you were here right now playing hero on her behalf? I don’t think she would like it very much.”

“Who’s gonna tell her I was here? You? I think we both know she’s not answering your calls.” Tom tensed his jaw and looked away. “You got a lot of fucking nerve, boy. I’m the only fucking olive branch you’re ever gonna get so I suggest you shut your mouth and open your ears.”

“ _I_ have the nerve? _You’re_ standing in _my_ apartment making demands of _me_ , remember?”

“You goddamn right I am! I think I have the right to!”

“You don’t have the right to do shit! Now get the hell out of my apartment and don’t ever come here again!”

“You think you scare me, Thomas? Don’t think just because I have a broken hand I will hesitate to hit you!”

“I’m getting a little fucking tired of everyone putting their hands on me,” Tom said through gritted teeth.

“Really? Then maybe you should try not being an asshole!”

“ _I’m_ the asshole? You come into my house and hurl threats and insults at me and _I’m_ the asshole! Wow!”

“Yeah, _you’re_ the asshole! You’re the asshole who told Cassie you loved her then took it back! Who does that?”

“I don’t need a reminder. I was there, thanks.” Tom scratched the top of his head and kicked the box of books in frustration. “Why are you here, Charlie?”

“I already told—”

“I mean, why are you _really_ here? Cas, doesn’t even know you’re here so it sure as shit can’t be for her. You have something you want to get off your chest then just say it and leave so I can finish packing.

Charlie licked his lips and gazed down at his feet momentarily before looking back at Tom. “Honestly? I don’t know why I came here. Part of me wants to be the shit out of you. Ya know? Eye for an eye. But another part,” he shrugged his shoulders. “I guess it just wanted an explanation.”

“Would it matter,” Tom asked softly. “Would it change anything? You’d still think I was an asshole and Cassie,” he looked down at his feet and cleared his throat in hopes that it would lessen the lump that had formed in it; it didn’t. “Cassie, would still hate me, wouldn’t she?”

“Yeah. I guess you’re right,” Charlie scoffed. Uncomfortable silence formed between the two men. After a few moments Charlie finally said, “You know what the really fucked up thing is?” Tom hunched his shoulders slightly. “I was rooting for you. Even though we weren’t friends and I know you never really liked me, I still rooted for you. Nobody wanted to see you and Cassie together and happy more than I did. Then you went and ruined it.” Tom shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away. He rocked on his heels and seemed as if he wanted to say something yet remained silent. “I don’t know what you said or did to her that night,” Charlie continued. “She won’t tell me—and she tells me everything. So I figure…whatever it was must’ve been a real shitty ass thing to do. A shitty ass thing done by a shitty ass person.”

“Is that all?” Tom tried to be impassive to Charlie’s remarks but it was obvious that his words had struck a nerve.

Charlie gave a wry chuckle. “Okay.” He turned and walked away before stopping short at the door. He turned back and added, “Tom, I don’t know you or your story or the reasons why you do the shitty shit you do… but what I _do_ know is… you need to fucking figure it out. Because there has got to be something _ugly_ inside you to make you see a fragile girl like Cas and break her.”

A wounded look appeared on Tom’s face. “I didn’t intend to break her, Charles,” Tom said; simmering anger rested in his tone.

Charlie gently shook his head and shrugged indifferently. “Doesn’t mean you didn’t.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes some mention of depression and suicide which, of course, can be very triggering. Please take that into consideration before you proceed.

Charlie muttered to himself as he fumbled with the key to his apartment. It was harder to do even the simplest tasks with his broken hand. He finally gave up and knocked on the door with his good hand. “Cas, open up, please!” No answer. He knocked again. “Cassie! I have groceries! Open up!” Still no answer. He sighed and tried to get his key to work again. He had better luck and successfully unlocked his door. “Thank god,” he grumbled as he pushed the door further open with his shoulder. He grabbed the closest plastic bag with his good hand and dragged it inside. He repeated the process multiple times until all the bags were crowding the front door. He gently kicked them aside and closed the door.

He walked to the couch and peered at a still sleeping Cassie. She had barely moved from the couch for the last two weeks. Every day he would leave her bundled under the covers and every time he returned she would still be there; maybe her head would be in a different position than when he left but she was otherwise unmoved. He assumed she had been fired from both her jobs. Her cell would ring constantly and she would glance at the number before hitting “silence” and rewrapping herself in her blanket. Soon the calls stop coming. He sighed as he carefully sat on the cheap coffee table in front of the couch. He gently shook her shoulder. “Cassie…Cassie…” She grumbled but otherwise didn’t stir. “Cas, wake up. You need to get up, babe.”

“No,” she moaned out.

“Yeah,” he countered. “When was the last time you ate anything?” She shrugged her shoulders in reply. “Yeah, I thought as much. I bought a couple of microwaveable pizzas. I’ll put one on for you and while I’m doing that you can take a shower. I love you, girl, but you stink.” He chuckled hoping that she would join in with him or at the very least flip him off like she would normally do; yet she said nothing. “C’mon, Cas, please, get—” He stretched his legs out and when he did his foot hit something solid under the couch. He heard it clack against the couch leg; he continued to kick it until the item rolled under the side and out into the middle of the floor. His face soured when he saw what it was: an empty bottle of Moscato. His calmness subsided as a seething rage built in him. “Cas!” He kicked the couch but she neither stirred nor responded. “You can’t get up to go to work or do anything but you can go buy a bottle of liquor!” When she still didn’t respond he threw the bottle against the closest brick wall causing it to shatter.

He ran his hands through his hair before raking them down his face. He knew that getting upset would neither help him or Cassie. He tried to take a few calming breaths but his exhales came out shaky. He needed a smoke. He marched to his bedroom and opened a window before pulling out a fresh pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. He leaned against the wall and stared out the window as he patted the bottom of the package. He didn’t realize how bad his nerves were until his hands shook as he broke the seal and brought a cigarette to his mouth. He pulled his lighter from his pants pocket and tried to hold his trembling left hand with his right as he lit his cigarette. He took a deep inhale and exhaled the smoke out of the window.

He stood by that window for the next twenty minutes smoking cigarette after cigarette as his mind raced. He took one last puff on the cigarette in his hand before putting it out in the ashtray that sat on the sill and closing the window. He coughed a few times then tore through her boxes looking for any excess bottles. He found none but the discovery didn’t relieve his worried mind. She had to have hidden them somewhere; somewhere she was sure that he wouldn’t think to look. He immediately went to his closet and began to dig through it yet found nothing. Next he marched to the kitchen and pulled open all the cabinet doors and drawers and still found nothing. “Where would be the last place I would look,” he asked himself. He cursed himself when he figured out that he missed the most obvious choice. He made his way back to his bedroom and reopened the closet door. He pulled the large first aid bag out, unzipped it, and pulled out two bottles of alcohol. He shook his head while he rubbed his lids. He couldn’t do this alone anymore. He rose and grabbed her cell off the nightstand, punched in the four digits of her birthday to unlock it, and pulled up her contact list. He scrolled down until he came to a name he recognized and dialed it.

“Hello,” the gruff voice answered.

“Um, hey, it’s Charlie. Cas’s friend? Um…We need to talk.”

“Is she okay?”

“No. It’s bad.” He looked back at the first aid bag; the unopened tops of the bottles of drinks were poking out. “Very bad.”

\------------

There was four steady knocks on the door. Charlie instantly threw the script he was reading on the dining table and sprung up from the chair to answer it. When he did he was greeted by a tall, broad shouldered man. His hair was black and cut low; his skin was a rich, umber brown. He looked at a piece of paper in his hand and said, “Are you…Charlie Leonetti?”

Charlie nodded. “I am. And you must be Luke.” He extended his hand and Luke shook it.

“Where is she,” Luke asked cutting out the formalities.

Charlie stepped out of the way and waved him in. “On the couch. She’s pretty much been there for the last couple of weeks. Every now and then she’d get up while I’m gone to get a drink.”

“Why didn’t you keep them away from her,” he asked as sat down on the coffee table causing it to creak under his weight.

“I did,” Charlie responded trying to hide the offense in his voice.

Before the discovery of the hidden liquor three days ago, he would take her car keys with him when he left every day as well as any medication either of them had or any items that she could use to harm herself. He had been dealing with this not only for the past few weeks but long before then as well. _He_ was the one that had found her on barely breathing on her dorm floor years ago; an empty bottle of something inches away from her hands. _He_ was the one who frantically called the police. _He_ was the one who sat by her bedside all that night and the next morning waiting for her to awake. When she did, she pleaded to him with streams of tears falling from those dark eyes to not tell her grandmother. “It was an accident,” she kept telling him. “A stupid accident. If they found out they’ll make me come home.” She said she would tell them but she needed some time; she wasn’t ready to return to Louisiana yet. He didn’t believe that the incident was an accident neither did he believe she would ever tell her family what transpired but, even though he knew better, he kept her secret.

Now her older cousin sat in the living area of his small apartment treating him as if he’s some inexperienced rookie in helping her. “Cassie, baby,” Luke said as he shook her shoulders. “It’s Luke. I came to help you.”

“Go away,” she mumbled as she pulled the covers over her head.

“What do we do,” Charlie asked as he folded his arms across his chest.

Luke leaned over to one side—causing the table he sat on to groan with his movements—to reach into his back pocket and pull out his cell. “You have a bath? Like a tub?” Charlie nodded. “Run her a bath.” He dialed a number on his phone. “Trisha, shut off the car and come up. It’s the first apartment at the top of the stairs. Don’t forget to lock the doors.” He ended the call and turned back to Charlie. “We’re gonna get her cleaned up and then I’m gonna need you to help me pack up her things.” Charlie solemnly nodded and disappeared into the bathroom. Luke turned back to Cassie and gently brushed back her curls with his large hand. “It’s okay, Lil Bit,” he whispered. “We’ll get you home and everything will be just fine.”

\------------

Cassie sat in the tub with her knees pulled up to her chest as Luke’s fourteen-year-old daughter, Trisha, washed her back. “You don’t have to do this. I can wash myself,” Cassie said softly; her voice was slightly hoarse from disuse.

“I don’t mind, Auntie Cas.” Cassie gave a quick airy chuckle at the title. Trisha always insisted on calling her “auntie” even though they were cousins. “Besides,” Trisha dipped the towel in the water and rinsed the soap off Cassie’s back, “Daddy says I can’t leave you in here alone.”

“What he thinks I’m gonna try to drown myself in the tub or something?”

“Yes,” Trisha curtly answered. She began to wash the dirt off of her arms but Cassie grabbed the towel from her.

“I can take it from here, dear.” Trisha nodded before sitting on the toilet and turning her back to her older cousin as she continued to wash herself. “Are you supposed to be in school?”

“It starts next week.”

“Well, this is a pretty shitty, I mean, bad…this is a pretty bad way to spend the last week of your summer.”

Trisha rolled her eyes at Cassie correcting her language. She wasn’t a kid anymore; she had heard—and used—worse. “I don’t mind,” she said as she picked at the chipped paint on the walls. She quickly got bored and rubbed the white chalky dust her picking had produced on her jeans. “Auntie Cas,” she asked as she continued to wipe the dust off.

“Yes?”

Trisha turned to face her. “I hope you get better soon.”

Cassie wanted to give her little cousin a reassuring smile but she didn’t have the energy to even fake it. Instead all she could say was, “I hope I do, too, kid.”

\------------

Cassie sat on the couch twiddling her thumbs; her body and hair freshly washed. Luke and Trisha were busy trudging the last box of her belongings down the stairs and putting them in the back of his van. Charlie sat next to her and handed her a wrapped sub sandwich. “You need to eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Still,” he placed the sandwich in her lap. “Just in case. It’s a long drive back to Louisiana.”

She put the sandwich in the large bag sitting next to her. They sat in silence; unspoken explanations and apologies made the tension between them palpable. Charlie opened his mouth to speak but the words stuck in his throat. “Fuck,” he cursed to himself before reaching into his shirt pocket and pulling out a cigarette from the pack that rested in there. He put it in his mouth and patted his pants pockets for the lighter. When he found it at last he tried to light it but it wouldn’t work. He threw it and the unlit cigarette on the table in front of them before resting his head in his hands. “Cassie…I—”

“Cas,” Luke’s voice interrupted. “You ready?”

She nodded and rose but Charlie lightly grabbed her arm to stop her. He rose and faced her. “Cassie, this…this isn’t me giving up on you. You gotta understand that. It’s just that…I-I can’t be here with you to keep you safe. But your family—” She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. They quietly held one another for a few minutes. It felt as if this would be their last goodbye and they both wanted to savor it for as long as they possibly could. They finally broke their embrace and exchanged sweet smiles. “Do you remember what I told you about good things happening to you?” The smile fell from her face as she looked away from him. He lifted her chin with his index. “I wasn’t bullshitting you, Cas. They _are_ gonna happen. In time. But they’ll never happen if you’re not here, girl.”

Cassie managed a weak smile before pecking him tenderly on the right cheek. She grabbed her bag off the couch and began to follow Luke out the door but she paused and turned back to her friend. “Thank you.”

Before Charlie could reply she quickly turned on her heels and exited the apartment. Charlie watched with a heavy heart as she shut the door behind her.

\------------

Luke tapped Cassie on her knee; his heavy hand felt like a hard hit instead of a gentle pat. She opened her eyes but didn’t speak. “We’re here.”

“Already” she asked; her voice was barely audible.

“Yep. You slept the entire way.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and exited the vehicle. Cassie tried the door but it wouldn’t open. She mentally reminded herself that he had the child lock on and tapped the glass for Luke to open her door. “Shit. Sorry, Cas,” he said as he pulled open the door.

Cassie stepped out and, for the first time in years, stood in front of her grandmother’s house. Most of the white paint had chipped off the walls but other than that the house still looked the same as it always did.It looked larger on the outside than it really was—failure in architecture, her uncle Johnny once complained. The high roof made the house seem as if it there were a second floor even though there wasn’t. When she was younger, Cassie often thought that if a steeple had been added to the top of the house it would look like a church—it would certainly be more welcoming than the one she was actually raised in.

She shuffled towards the house and before she even landed a foot on the bottom step that lead up to porch the front door swung open. Her grandmother’s round, sweet face appeared in the doorway. She outstretched her arms and said, “Welcome home, baby.” Cassie dropped the blanket that she had covered over her shoulders on the ground and bounced up the three stairs and ran into her grandmother’s open arms. She opened her mouth to greet her but she suddenly found herself overcome with emotion and wept into her grandmother’s neck. Her grandmother rubbed her back and encouraged her to continue. “That’s it, baby. Let it all out. Yo ma’dear’s got you. You gon be alright now, child. You gon be alright.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals with depression which, of course, can be very triggering. Please take that into consideration before you proceed.

The first day Cassie was back home in Louisiana she slept all through the day and night; only waking up to use the bathroom before crawling back under the comfort of her covers. Her grandmother, Eartha, figured it was best to let her sleep. But on the second day, she entered Cassie’s old bedroom around noon with a tray of homemade chicken noodle soup and sat it on the edge of the stand next to the bed. “I’m not hungry,” Cassie said; her voice was muffled by the covers.

“Sure you are, baby.” Eartha gently pulled the covers off her granddaughter’s face. “You haven’t eaten a thing yesterday and Luke said you didn’t eat anything all the way back home. C’mon, now. Sit up and eat you some of this here. It’ll put some meat on your bones.” Cassie was too tired to argue. She pulled the covers back and adjusted herself so that she was sitting up on the backboard of the bed. Her grandmother placed the tray on her lap. “I’m gonna go get you a glass of something to wash it down with.”

Her grandmother shuffled out of the room; she shut the door but left it ajar enough that the light from the hall shone into the dark room. Cassie stared at the food in front of her. She used to love her grandmother’s chicken noodle soup but she really didn’t have the appetite. Nevertheless, she picked up the spoon and stirred the hot meal with it before bringing a spoonful of it to her mouth. She stared at the food. A large chunk of white meat floated in the seasoned broth that somehow smelled twice as delicious as it looked. A couple of white noodles sat next to the meat; one piece clung to the edge of the silverware before falling back into the bowl with a soft plop. For some reason, that small action seemed to upset Cassie. She dropped her spoon, buried her face in her hands, and began to cry.

Eartha reentered the room with a glass of Coke in her hand. When she saw Cassie crying, she quickly put the glass on the table and carefully climbed into the bed next to her. She wrapped her arms around her granddaughter and tenderly asked, “What’s the matter, baby?” Cassie shook her head in response. She really _didn’t_ know why she was crying. “Hush, now. Hush,” her grandmother cooed as she pulled Cassie closer and began to rock her. She grabbed a napkin off the tray and dabbed at Cassie’s eyes. “It’s okay. Ma’dear’s here. She’s got you.” She reached for the spoon and scooped up a fresh spoonful of the soup. She scrapped the excess juice on the edge of the bowl and brought it to her granddaughter’s lips. “Take a bite.” Cassie’s crying had quieted some but fresh tears still fell down her cheek. She shook her head no to her grandmother’s request. “Just a bite. It’ll make you strong.”

Cassie gave in and opened her mouth. Eartha gently fed her spoon after spoon of the soup. Cassie barely had the energy to chew and swallow the food yet she continued to let her grandmother feed her. She found comfort in the action. It reminded her of when she first came to live with her grandmother after her parents’ death and she was all but comatose. She was barely speaking or eating; she was barely living. But her grandmother nursed her back. And just like then, Cassie knew she would do the same for her now.

Eartha wiped the corners of Cassie’s mouth with a clean napkin. “There,” she said as she balled up the paper and tossed it into the nearly empty bowl on the tray. She pecked Cassie’s forehead before scooting off the bed and grabbing the tray. “I’ll be back around dinner.” Cassie nodded and laid back under the covers. Eartha kicked the door open with her foot and before she exited she heard Cassie mumble out a soft “thank you.” “You’re welcome, baby,” she replied with a smile before finally leaving.

\-----------------

Johnny poked his head into Cassie’s room. The room was nearly pitch dark and he couldn’t make out her form on the bed but he knew she was there—he could hear her soft snoring. He snuck into the room and left a bag on the stand and left. He quietly closed the door before heading to the kitchen where Eartha was scrubbing the dishes. “Did she move at all today?”

“She went to the bathroom a little while ago but that’s about it. She ate some lunch but she refused dinner.”

She placed a clean dish into the rack by the sink and Johnny immediately grabbed a clean towel, dried it, and placed it in the cabinet. He began to do the same with the others that were already in the rack. “You don’t have to do this, mama. I can finish up for you.”

“Naw naw. As long as I got life in these limbs I’m gonna keep doing what I do. How was work?”

Johnny groaned and shook his head. “They fired Ernest today.”

“What? After fifty years?”

“Yep. Any day now I’ma be next. I can feel it.”

“Naw, don’t talk like that. God’s got it all in his hands. You gon be fine.”

“Yeah, well, Ernest thought the same thing and look what happened to him.” His mother shot him a dirty look. There was a lot of things she would let slide but she would not tolerate blaspheming—not in the slightest. “Sorry,” Johnny said with his hands lifted in protest. With everything that was already weighing heavily on his mind the last thing he wanted was to get into a religious debate. “I just meant I’m worried is all.” He continued drying the dish in his hand before putting it away and grabbing another one. “So,” he said gingerly, “um, I spoke to Odessa today.”

Eartha stopped washing and looked back at her son. “What? Well, where is she?”

“She’s in Kansas.”

“Kansas? What she’s doing there? I thought she was in New York.”

“I did too. But, um, apparently she's in a bad way.”

“She’s always in a bad way, John.” She continued washing the dishes. “What she want now? Some more money? Because neither of us got any to give to her and with Cassie here now—”

“She wants to come home.”

Eartha faced him again. She placed a hand on her narrow hip and asked, “Does she really wanna come home or is she just playing us again? I mean to stay. Last time she was here she stayed long enough to suck us dry before running off with the first man that asked her to.” Johnny tensed his jaw and looked away. Odessa had her problems—like all of them—but she was still his daughter and he still loved her. Eartha saw the look on his face and sighed. “I’m sorry, John. She says she want to come home? That’s good. That’s real good. She’s always welcomed.”

“Yeah.” He grabbed the pan she had been scrubbing and rinsed the soap off of it. “She needs someone to come pick her up. I can’t do it, though. They’re watching me like a hawk. If I ask for a few days off…I-I might not come home to a job.”

“We can ask Luke to do it.”

“Nah. He just took days off for Cassie. They won’t give him another couple off. Plus him and Rashida are struggling. They need all the money they can get.”

Eartha nodded in agreement. “Well…maybe we can send for her. We can get her a plane ticket.”

“With what money, mama? I dipped into the last of my savings to repair the roof last month.”

“Well, don’t you fret. I got something stashed away.”

“No, mama, I can’t let you do that.”

“She’s your baby, John. I don’t mind.”

He gently grabbed her hand and patted it. “No, mama. No. I’ll figure something out. But we ain’t touching whatever money you got.” He walked to the fridge and pulled out a beer. “I’ll figure it out,” he repeated before walking to his room.

\-----------------

A few weeks passed and Cassie had shown very little signs of improvement. Her appetite still hadn’t returned much but she did leave her room. She would spend dinners with her uncle and grandmother and nibble or pick at her food before disappearing back in her room. Every once in a while she would join her grandmother in the living room and rest her head on her lap as they silently watched whatever was the television. Sometimes Luke would visit with his daughters and they would all enjoy a movie or have Sunday dinner. Yet, there were still times where even the idea of socializing wore her out and she would refuse to leave her room.

The last time she interacted with her family, they were watching some barely funny show on television. Luke entered the living room with a bowl of caramelized popcorn. He sat in his father’s lounger and popped a handful of the snack into his mouth. “Boy, you know good and well when yo daddy come home he’s gonna have a fit all over you for sitting in his chair,” Eartha said with a smirk.

Luke groaned and moved to the couch. He lifted Cassie’s legs and sat down then rested her limbs on his lap. He shoved another handful of the popcorn into his mouth before handing the bowl to his cousin. She shook her head and pushed it away from her. “You sure, Lil Bit?” She nodded in reply. He popped a kernel in his mouth. (He didn’t offer any to his grandmother because he knew the extra sweet snack would worsen her diabetes). They sat quietly for a moment before Luke’s hearty chuckle broke the silence. “Cas, you remember that time we went to Aunt Geri’s and you ate your weight in this and got sick?”

“That wasn’t me.”

“Yes, it was. I remember because Aunt Geri warned you not to eat so much but because you’re a stubborn lil’ thing you ignored her and threw up on the floor.”

Cassie shuffled and rotated onto her back. “No, that was Desi. I dared her that she couldn’t eat more than me and she got sick offa one bowl. She puked all over Aunt Geri’s carpet.” For the first time since she had been back home, Cassie laughed. The sound of it was more than pleasant to the ears of her cousin and grandmother. They exchanged a quick smile before joining in the laughter. “She was so pissed! She was like,” she licked her lips and tried to suppress her giggle so she could mimic her aunt’s high pitched voice, “‘My rug! My brand new rug!’” The trio continued to laugh.

“Brand new! That thing was older than my dad!”

“And blacker than him, too!” They laughed harder. The thickness in the air seemed to dissipate and the environment became lighter and more joyous. Yet this happiness would be short lived. During the following commercial break the local news showed a highlight from some topics that were to be covered after the primetime shows finished airing.

“…Also to come, the arrest of Shreveport native, Daya Ramirez, in connection to the burning down of an apartment complex in Los Angeles,” the reporter said. “More on that at nine.”

“What,” Luke said in disbelief. “Daya burned down an apartment building? That don’t sound like her.” He looked at his cousin and saw the smile that had sat on it had now been replaced with her sullen look that he had, sadly, became used to. “Cas?”

“I…” She rose off the couch and disappeared inside her old bedroom. Luke rose to follow her but his grandmother grabbed his arm and softly told him “don’t.”

She remained locked away in there for almost another week; again, refusing to eat or talk to anyone. She spent most of her time sleeping or staring out of the window counting the number of cars passing by. She was currently up to thirty-six.

There was a knock on the door. Cassie neither invited them in nor shooed them away; she only continued silently counting—thirty-seven. “Cas, baby,” her grandmother’s tender voice said. Cassie didn’t respond. Thirty-eight, thirty-nine. “I fried some chicken. With some mac ‘n cheese and string beans. Your fave.” She waved the plate in her hand under Cassie’s nose hoping that the smell would kindle her hunger; but Cassie only turned away from her grandmother. “Okay.” She placed the plate on the stand. “It’ll be right here when you’re ready.”

Yet when Eartha returned hours later the plate hadn’t been touched at all. She took it back to the kitchen, wrapped it, and placed it in the fridge—just in case. Then she returned to Cassie’s room. She slid under the covers and laid next to her granddaughter. She wrapped her arms around Cassie. She wanted to say some comforting words yet she surprisingly found herself mute. Instead she let her actions—the soft humming of some old church song that she had long forgot the words to as she brushed back Cassie’s curls with her hand—speak for her. Cassie placed her hand atop her grandmother’s and the two quietly slept the night away.

It went like this for another month. Her grandmother would try to coax her out of the room to no avail and she would all but force feed her. Johnny would check on her every once in a while but he wasn’t very good with words so he didn’t talk much; instead he would lay a hand on her shoulder, kiss her on the forehead, and continue to buy her sweets that she liked. More than once Luke would ask her if she wanted to hang out with him but she always declined.

Yet he refused to give up. One Saturday he sat on the floor in front of her and bopped the tip of her nose with his index until she woke up. She swatted his hand away. “Stop,” she grumbled; her voice slightly hoarse.

“That’s all you gotta say? Whenever I did that when we were younger you would fight me.” She covered her face in response. He sighed and looked at stand next to the bed and noticed three unopened brown paper bags. “What’s in the bags?” She shrugged. “Who they from?”

“Johnny.”

“‘Johnny,’” he mocked her hoping that she would at least show _some_ signs of irritation; yet, like all of their interactions for the last weeks, she remained silent. He rose, walked to the window and looked out. It was barely nine in the morning and the neighborhood was already full of life. He looked back at Cassie. Well… _almost_ everybody. He didn’t recognize her. The vibrant cousin that he loved had been replaced by some empty shell—it looked and sounded like her but it just wasn’t her. More than once, Luke wanted to grab her shoulders and yell “snap out of it!” while shaking her. (Thankfully his grandmother advised him against it).

He sighed again and sat in the old chair that was near the window. “Rashida’s pregnant again. I have no idea where we’ll keep another baby. Our little house is already crowded. Shit. I’m not sure if we can afford to have another one.” He rubbed the back of his head. “But the weird thing, Cas, is…I’m excited anyway.” Again Cassie didn’t respond. He continued to talk to her; swallowing his frustration each time he opened his mouth. “The twins want a playhouse in the backyard. I can’t afford the one they want so I think I’ll make them one.” He paused and rubbed his knees. “I would sure like it if you helped. You can, I dunno, pick out some colors they might like or something.” She still didn’t answer. “Great! I’ll pick you up next Saturday.”

\-----------------

Luke wasn’t joking about Cassie helping him build his daughters’ playhouse. When the following Saturday morning came, he stood by her bed and all but pulled her out of it. She groaned and protested at first but eventually conceded. She hoped that a change of scenery would do a little bit of good. In a way, it did.

There was nothing fun or exciting about spending over an hour on a Saturday morning in Home Depot feigning interest in the different sizes of plywood or learning the difference between a ratchet and structural wrench. However, she _did_ enjoy spending the afternoon with his wife and children as she and Luke measured, cut, and hammered away at the slowly forming playhouse. Soon she found herself looking forward to her cousin’s visit. Every day he would their grandmother’s house because he needed Cassie’s help with something. The back wall wasn’t secure enough, the roof was too big, the door was too small, and they never picked a color to paint it.

She never questioned why the twins would wait until fall to ask for a playhouse. (The weather was already pretty chilly and would only worsen as the months wore on. They wouldn’t even be allowed to play in it until Spring.) She enjoyed being outside of the house and, after her lethargy had passed, had soon become something similar to her old self. She still had her low periods, of course, but the project gave her a better focus for her thoughts. Everyone was grateful for it. It was nice to see her eating a full meal and making jokes. (Her grandmother even caught her once or twice typing away on her laptop at the dining room table.)

One Saturday afternoon, she and Luke (once again) found themselves perusing the aisles of Home Depot. They had moved on from the playhouse and were now building a mini playground. Cassie was drooped over the cart staring at her older cousin in boredom as he debated over which of the two screwdrivers in his hand he would need. “I’m bored!”

“You’re always bored.”

She made a mocking face behind his back. “I’m hungry too.”

“You’re always hungry.” He looked back her and chuckled as she poked out her bottom lip as she absentmindedly fingered the plastic packaging of an item in the cart. “You’re worse than my kids, ya know?”

“I’m a lot better than a six-year-old.” Just then a parent annoyingly dragged her crying son past them. “See what I mean? I’m not throwing a tantrum.”

“That’s because if you do it you’ll probably get arrested for disturbing the peace or something.” He laughed at his joke but Cassie only rolled her eyes. “Anyway,” he continued, “I was referring to Trisha. Whenever I take her to run errands with me she has that exact same look on her face except,” he put back both tools before picking up another one, “she would usually be popping her gum or shit.”

“Would that annoy you?”

“Like hell.”

“Quick. Someone give me some Juicy Fruit.” He shot her a warning look and she laughed at it.

“Why don’t you go make yourself useful and pick out some color swatches.”

“For what?”

“We’re gonna turn Rashida’s office into a nursery. She told me to bring home some colors to look at.”

“Wouldn’t that be better for _you_ to do? Since, ya know, it’s your kid and all?”

“Yeah…but you’re a girl. You’re better at that shit than I am.”

“Oh, so just because I’m female I’m supposed to automatically know what colors look good in a nursery?”

“Yep,” he said with a smirk.

“See? You lucky I know you playing or I would have to read your ass for being sexist.”

“Oh, god. Please don’t, Susan B. Anthony.”

She smiled and playfully hit him on the arm. “You know goddamn well I prefer, Ida B. Wells.” He rolled his eyes and Cassie giggled at it before heading to the main aisle. She read the overhead signs for the proper aisle. “Paint! Okay. Now what would look good in a nursery,” she whispered to herself as she glanced through the myriad of colors. “Any of these colors would work because it’s a goddamn nursery! I know what I’ma do.” She began to pull out the loudest, tackiest colors available. She chuckled to herself as she flipped through the swatches in her hand. “Nah, Cas, you can do better than this.” She saw a (nearly) blinding, neon green color at the bottom of the shelf. When she squatted down to reach it she heard someone call her name.

“Cassie? Cassie Greene?”

She turned to where the voice was coming from and immediately sprung up when she saw who it belonged to. “Oh my god,” she mumbled between shaky breaths. “Ja-Jamir?”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is the one instance of a gay slur and a couple of racial ones. Take that into consideration before proceeding.

Jamir hadn’t aged a bit in the years since she last saw him. His eyes were still a brilliant green and the slight creases around them somehow brought the color out more. He wore a trimmed beard that made him look a couple of years older. Physically, he was in much better shape than he had been years ago. The small pouch on his stomach was gone and Cassie could only assume that under his shirt lay a nice set of well-toned abs. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up and displayed his defined biceps. If she wasn’t already familiar with the asshole behind the white smile, she would have easily fallen for him. It wasn’t fair for him to still look this good. He was supposed to have one eye and scales; or a tail and hooves. He was a monster, after all.

“Damn, girl,” he said as his eyes roamed her body. He licked his lips when his eyes fell to her chest then again at the way she filled out her jeans which—thanks to the way she had been eating in the last month—were now way too tight. She felt naked but she resisted the urge to cover herself. She didn’t want him think he still had any power over her. She wasn’t the same thirteen-year-old he had deflowered and impregnated. “You look good. Damn good.”

She didn’t bother to hide the disgust his compliment rendered. “Go to hell.” She turned to walk away but he grabbed her elbow to halt her. She tried to free herself but his grip was too tight. “Lemme go!”

“Aw, c’mon, girl. Is this a way to treat an old friend?”

“‘Friend’?” Did he really just say that? “We were never friends,” she nearly spat the words out. “Now let…me…go.” She put her hand to his chest in an attempt to push him away but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer.

“Lovers then. I was your first, girl. You don’t ever forget your first.”

“Yeah, the first man to use me and dump me.” She continued trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “Let me go, Jamir, or I swear to god…”

He quickly pinned her to the shelf behind him. He leaned into her neck and her body tensed as she felt his lips graze her skin. “You smell good. You always did, though. After I had you, my sheets smelled like coconut for a week. Damn.” He took a deep inhale and Cassie shuddered as he did. “I could go for some tropical flavor right now.”

He quickly licked her neck and, as his tongue dragged across her flesh, she suddenly found her strength returning. She angrily pushed him away with a grunt. “You goddamn son of a bitch,” she said through her teeth as she wiped his spit off with the arm of her jacket. “I’m not the same child—”

“Child? You knew what you were getting into, Cas.”

“Don’t call me that! And I was thirteen! You were eighteen!”

“Seventeen!”

“Either way…You were still too old for me. You took advantage of me.”

“Whoa, now!” He took offense at what she was implying. “You consented. I didn’t do anything that you didn’t ask for.”

“No. I was a girl with low self-esteem and you saw that and used that against me. People treat dogs better than you did me. And now you come over here wanting to play Mr. Forgetful and act like everything is all good between us? Fuck you!”

Jamir’s face soured as he looked her up and down. “Oh, I get it. You done went to Hollywood and won you a couple of awards and now you think you some hot shit.” He stepped closer to her, once again pinning her to the shelf. He gave a light derisive chuckle before leaning in and adding, “You ain’t nobody but some uppity ass black bitch who made _one_ dyke film. If yo ass _really_ was the shit you wouldn’t even be back here.”

Cassie answered the insult with a smirk. “And you ain’t nothing but some light eyes, a lil dick, and a weak stroke. But I won’t hold that against you.”

Jamir suddenly grabbed her throat. Cassie tried to push his away but to no avail. “You lil’ bitch.” His grip tightened and she began to claw at his wrists. “You know what I should do?” Before he could finish his threat abruptly pulled back from her and went flying into the shelves opposite her. She fell to the ground and coughed as she massaged her neck.

She looked back up at Jamir she saw that he was pinned against the shelves by Luke. After he had noticed that she was gone far too long, he went searching for her. “You must’ve have lost your fucking mind, boy.” In obvious retribution for his cousin, Luke grabbed Jamir’s neck. “If you ever touch her again, I’ll keep squeezing until I pop yo bitch ass neck! Try me, boy.”

“Is-Is there a problem here?” Cassie and Luke both turned to where the nervous voice was coming from. It was the voice of a security guard. Some patrons had noticed the commotion as they passed by but they all kept to themselves. Well, except for one woman who had overheard a few people talking amongst themselves about a “not-so domestic disturbance in aisle eighteen.” She immediately ran to the first worker she saw and followed them to the security office. She stood now watching behind the two guards. The guard who had spoken cleared his throat and asked again with authority, “I said is there a problem here?”

“I don’t know. Jamir? Is there a problem? Or have we got everything all sorted out?”

“Yeah. Yeah. We good,” Jamir croaked out.

“Good.” Luke slammed his against the shelves one last time for extra emphasis.

“Hey! That’s enough!” Luke freed Jamir and lifted his hands up as she slowly backed away; his eyes, however, still furiously bore into Jamir.

The woman, who was even smaller than Cassie and looked a few years younger than her as well, squeezed passed the guard and dropped to the floor beside her. “Are you all right, hon?” Cassie shook her head “no” in reply.

“You want us to call the cops, ma’am, so you can file a complaint?”

“No.” The woman helped her up. “Thank you. Thank you but no. I think my cousin handled it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

The second guard grabbed Jamir by the elbow. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.” Jamir gave Cassie one last angry look before being escorted out the aisle.

“Here,” the woman said to Cassie as she handed her a card. Cassie raised an eyebrow as she read the words: Survivors Anonymous. She started to speak but the small woman quickly added, “I’ve been where you are, honey. We meet every Wednesday at seven. Come by and chat or just check it out. It’s easier having somebody to talk to.” She gently patted Cassie’s hand before turning and exiting the aisle.

Cassie and Luke shared a look before simultaneously shrugging their shoulders. “C’mon, Lil Bit, let’s hit the checkout and then get you back home.” Cassie nodded and started to follow him but stopped. She looked back at the card in her hand. She thought about sticking it in the holders for the paint swatches—right between the blues and purples—before eventually shoving it into her jacket pocket. She pulled her jacket tighter as she rushed to catch up to her cousin.

\----------------

The ride back to their grandmother’s was a relatively quiet one. The silence was only broken by the sound of the music playing from the radio and Luke asking Cassie if she wanted to stop anywhere to grab a bite to eat. “I’m not hungry.” It was a big change from twenty minutes ago when they were still in Home Depot and she was nagging him about her boredom and hunger. Yet the quick change in appetite wasn’t surprising considering what had transpired. Even he was feeling sick to his stomach over it.

“Cas—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay. Okay.” They remained silent for a few more minutes until 2 Chainz “No Lie” came on the radio. Luke quickly turned it off.

“I like that song.”

“Ugh. I can’t stand Drake.”

“You’re just mad because he’s prettier than you,” she replied with a smile.

He chuckled. He was afraid that she would return to her sullen state after the day’s bad turn; but hearing her joke filled him with relief. “Now, c’mon, girl. You see this face? Ain’t no yellow boy from Degrassi better looking than me.”

“Yeah, I’m still hearing nothing but hate right now.” She turned the radio back on. Drake was just starting the chorus. Cassie gleefully rapped along. “‘I say fuck you, ‘less I’m with ya/If I take you outta the picture/I know real niggas won’t miss ya.” She leaned closer to her cousin and loudly belted out, “No lie, no lie, no lie-ee-i-ee-i!”

“Cassie, please…”

She started bouncing her shoulders to the beat and waving her hands. “Real niggas say word?/You ain’t never told no lie/You ain’t never told no lie.”

“Cas,” he tried to stifle a laugh. “Cas, I swear if you don’t stop I’m gonna put your ass out of this car.”

She continued dancing as she said to the beat, “You lie, you lie, you lie-ee-i-ee-i!” Luke could no longer resist and finally burst into laughter.

\----------------

When they pulled up to the house there was a red convertible parked along the curb. “Who’s car,” Cassie asked as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

Luke hunched his shoulders. “Texas license plate. Hm. Maybe some kinfolk visiting?”

“Ugh,” she opened her door. “Is it rude that I’m hoping it’s an old friend of Uncle Johnny or something so I don’t have to talk? I’m not really in the mood to socialize with anyone besides you.”

He exited the van. “Just excuse yourself. Ya know, tell them you’re tired. They’ll understand.”

They began to walk up the front steps of the porch. “Yeah, like ma’dear would let me get away with that. I can hear her now,” she mocked her grandmother’s accent, “‘Cassandra Patricia Greene, you get back here and speak. We have company! You know better than that.”

Luke laughed at her impression as he tried the door knob. It was unlocked; he opened the door and the smile that was on his face dropped. “Oh, shit,” he said; forgetting himself.

“Lucas Jonathan Powell, you watch your mouth,” Eartha said at the sound of her grandson swearing.

Before he could apologize, Cassie entered the room and repeated his faux pas. “Oh, you gotta be shitting me!” Eartha was about to admonish her but Johnny placed a hand on her upper arm to silence her.

“Hello, cousin,” Odessa said with a smile as she rose from the couch. She stretched out her hands for a hug but Cassie only glared at her.

“What are you doing here?”

“Cassie,” Eartha gasped. “Don’t be rude.”

Cassie ignored her grandmother. “Last I heard you were up in New York with your sugar daddy Mark Something.”

Before Odessa could respond their cousin Freddie bounced into the hallway from the bathroom. “Whoo! I think that burger I had went bad.” He fanned his nose as he shuffled in to the living room. “Y’all might wanna give that a few minutes before you go in there.” He stopped short when he saw Cassie. “Cas! I haven’t seen you in forever.” He quickly ensnared her in a bear hug. “You look good. Not sick at all.”

Cassie rolled her eyes and pushed him from her. “Don’t touch me.”

“Cassie! You’re being rude,” her grandmother reprimanded.

“ _I’m_ being rude? How can you let them back in your home after the shit they did?”

“Oh, here it comes,” Odessa said. “I’ve barely been here thirty minutes and already Self-righteous Cassie rears her ugly head!”

“You can go to hell and take him,” she pointed to Freddie, “with you!”

“Why are you mad at me?”

“Because she wants to throw blame on everyone else but herself,” Odessa chimed in.

“I’m throwing blame where it belongs, _Odie_!” Odessa scowled at her much hated nickname. “You ran off without a care about Ma’dear or your own daddy until you needed some money, like the gold digging piece of shit you are!”

“Both of you end this right now,” Eartha shouted. “I mean it!” Neither of the girls obeyed; they continued tearing into one another with decades of unbridled loathing.

“Fuck you, Cas! You think you’re better than me, huh? At least I wasn’t out getting abortions at thirteen!”

The comment visibly hurt Cassie. Odessa always did know which buttons to push; but Cassie wasn’t the same girl Odessa used to know. This Cassie wasn’t afraid to push back. “Well, at least I’m not out stealing someone’s husband. By the way, how is he?” Odessa cursed her but Cassie continued. “What was his name? Bobby? Richard? Devonte? There were just so many I can barely keep up.”

Eartha held a hand to her chest and sat back into Johnny’s chair. “Mama?” He looked at Luke and said, “Go get her pills! They’re in the top right hand drawer of her dresser. Freddie, go get her a glass of orange juice. Y’all hurry!” He turned back to his mother. “You okay?”

“Make them stop, John. Please,” she said weakly. Her hands were shaking.

“Girls,” Johnny yelled out. “Your grandmother said stop it so stop!” Again they ignored the commands and continued bickering.

“I hate you,” Odessa screamed.

“I know! You made it painfully clear every single day since I was nine!”

Odessa rolled her eyes. “This shit again. Grow the fuck up, Cas. It’s done.”

“‘Grow up,’” Cassie scoffed. “Grow up? You made me hate _every_ single thing about myself and all you gotta say to me is ‘grow up’?”

The girls continued to loudly fight; Johnny had given up stopping them. He was more focused on his mother. He watched concerned as Eartha washed down the pills. “Help me take her to bed,” he said to Luke. Luke gently lifted his grandmother in his arms and carefully carried her to her bedroom. “Get them to stop,” Johnny said to Freddie as he followed his eldest son.

Freddie nodded his head but, truthfully, he wasn’t sure what he would do cease his sister and cousin’s quarreling. “Guys,” he said; his voice was drowned out by the yelling. “Guys,” he repeated louder but still to no avail.

“Don’t you have some cocaine to go snort,” Cassie sarcastically asked in reply to a particularly scathing comment from Odessa.

“Guys, please!”

“Real cute, Cas,” Odessa replied. “Don’t you have a bottle of pills to swallow?”

Cassie’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “How…who-who told…”

Odessa smirked and sat her hands on hips. She was about to add another remark—for the kill—but Freddie stopped her. “Odessa, that’s enough!” Surprisingly, Odessa acquiesced. She had to save something for the next time Cassie tried to pull this shit with her. She sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes before disappearing into her old bedroom that she now, once again, shared with her cousin.

Freddie sighed and scratched at his beard as he looked back at Cassie. He felt as if he should say something to her but he didn’t know exactly what. Besides, she had made it abundantly clear that she, for some reason, didn’t want to talk to him. “Grandma’s not feeling well,” he said softly.

“What,” she asked; her voice threatening to crack. For the first time she looked around the room and found that it was empty. She was so engulfed in her and Odessa’s fight that she hadn’t even noticed her leave. “Where—”

“Bedroom.” They both walked down the hall and entered the bedroom on the left. Luke was standing with his hands shoved in his jacket pockets and awkwardly shuffling on his feet. Johnny sat on the bed next to his mother and was soothing her by caressing her hand.

“Ma’dear,” Cassie said, “Are you o—” Johnny put up his hand and silenced her. He exchanged a few hushed words with Eartha before rising and meeting Cassie. “Is she okay?”

“She seems to be fine. I think it might have been her blood pressure but I don’t know… She won’t go to a hospital. She’s stubborn like that. She ain’t the only one.”

Cassie looked down at her feet in shame. “Yeah. I-I’m sorry. Can I talk to her?”

“Not now. Let her rest.” Cassie nodded and looked back at her grandmother. A wave of remorse swept over her. She turned and walked back to her old bedroom but stopped before her hand reached the knob. She wasn’t ready for another round with Odessa just yet. She marched to the kitchen and pulled open the fridge. Johnny’s usual six pack of beer—now down to four—sat in the middle of the center shelf. A drink or two would help her forget the shitty day she was having. She pulled the entire remaining pack out and headed for the porch.

\----------------

Cassie popped the tab and took a large gulp of beer. She cringed at the taste before having another swallow. She watched the lively members of the neighborhood as they went about spending the rest of their Saturday. Across the street a few kids were playing double dutch with a pair of jump ropes. A few houses down from them some other children were playing a game of basketball. She wondered who was winning. Her grandmother’s neighbor, Mrs. Reed, was still working in her garden. Most of her plants seemed to be in hibernation for the incoming cold season but her bushes were still green and leafy. She heard a car backfire in the distance before the thumping bass of a passing car drowned it out.

“Dad’s gonna kill you when he finds out you took his beer,” Luke said from the doorway.

“I’ll buy him some more,” she replied without looking at him before taking another sip. “You gonna join me?”

“You trying to get me in trouble with ya,” he joked but Cassie didn’t laugh. “Scoot over.” He sat next to her, pulled a beer off of one of the rings, and opened it. He took a sip before saying, “So…how much of whatever that was in there was more about running into Jamir than Odessa being back home?”

Cassie shrugged. “About…seventy percent. Maybe eighty.”

“Yeah, Lil Bit,” he patted her knee, “I thought so.” That sat quietly for a minute more before he cautiously asked, “You…uh, you were pregnant?” He looked at her but she continued to stare straight ahead.

“Yep.”

“And it was Jamir’s?”

“Yep.”

He wasn’t sure what else to say. He felt a twinge of guilt burrow into his chest. He wished he had stuck around after graduation. If he had he could have protected her—or at the least warn her—about guys like Jamir. Guys who loved themselves first and only. Guys who treated women like interchangeable commodities. Guys who would try to break a girl just to see if they _could_. If he had been here, he could have seen Jamir coming a mile away and curved him before he even got within two feet of his cousin. “I’m sorry, kid,” he said with a sorrowful tone.

“I am, too. But ain’t a damn thing I can do about it. The past is the past. I just gotta learn from it and try not to make the same stupid mistake.” She began thinking about Tom. He and Jamir were so different yet they both hurt her. She never loved Jamir—even when she was a kid a part of her knew that—but the horrid way he treated her hurt just the same. However, she loved Tom wholly. Even now after everything that happened at Chris Hemsworth’s party, she still loved him and she hated herself for it. There was something inside her that pined for him. Something she couldn’t explain. Something she couldn’t drink away.

“Well…” Luke’s voice thankfully pulled her from her thoughts. “I think I better go.” He let out a loud grunt as he rose. He tossed the excess beer over the railing surround the porch. “I have to pick Trisha up from her mother’s. She’s staying with us while her mom’s out of town on business.”

“Tell her I said, ‘hey.’ And give my love to Rashida and the twins.”

“Will do.” He headed for the steps before stopping and snapping his fingers. “Shit, girl, I almost forgot. There was some mail for you on the table.” He pulled it out an envelope from his back pocket and looked over it. “Looks important.”

“If it’s from Sallie Mae you can keep it.”

He chuckled and read the return address. “Nah, it’s from the Weiss Brothers Agency.”

Cassie furrowed her brow. “What?” Luke handed her the envelope. She quickly opened it and her mouth dropped when she saw the contents.

“I take it it’s good news?”

“It’s fucking great news! Probably the best news I’ve had all year!” She excitedly gasped as she pulled out a check from the envelope. “It’s my first royalty check.”

“What?” She showed him the check. “Damn, girl! That’s a lot of zeros. More than I’ve ever seen.”

“Me too.”

“What are you gonna do with it?”

The question surprised her. What _would_ she do with her money? She looked at her cousin then at the check then finally back at Luke. A smile slowly grew on her face as an idea formed in her mind. “I have an idea.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a post about this before on my tumblr but I never clarified it here but this fic takes place in the summer of 2012. There's references to the making of Thor 2 in this chapter and I didn't want y'all to be confused. I know I should have mentioned that before. Sorry :(

Tom waved to the remaining crew members as he walked to his car. He let out a yawn as he hit the “unlock” button on his keyless entry pad before entering the vehicle. He stuck the key into the ignition and turned over the engine; as soon as he did, an unfamiliar pop tune blared out of the radio. He winced at the high volume. He forgot he left the damn thing on when he arrived on set early that morning (the volume was too high then as well). He turned the radio off, gave one last tired smile and wave to the passing make up artist, and drove off the set.

An hour and a half later he was back home in London. As he parked and exited the car, he gave serious thought about whether he should just rent a cottage in Surrey to avoid the awful London traffic but he pushed the thought away. After living away from home for so long he could stand a little bit of traffic if it meant that every night he could rest his tired head on his own pillows. Also, Surrey was just too quiet at night. He needed the bustling sounds of the city to distract his mind.

When he entered his home he kicked his shoes off at the door and stretched as he exhaled another roaring yawn. His hunger and tiredness wrestled with each other. He figured he could make a light quick late night dinner before bed. He opened the fridge and sighed at the lack of contents. He still hadn’t gone grocery shopping yet. It had been on his to-do list for the last week (along with returning his sister Sarah’s call and visiting his mother) but he kept putting it off for the next day. Now here he was standing in front of his fridge trying to figure out what he could possibly make from the meager ingredients that would satiate his hunger. He stared at the contents a little longer before finally giving up and shutting the door. _I’ll_ _figure it out in the morning_ , he thought as he shuffled to the stairs and climbed them.

He entered his bedroom and yawned again—this one even longer than the last two. He desperately wanted to crawl into bed and sleep the rest of the night away but he needed to wash the long day off of him first. He removed his jacket and carelessly tossed it on the bed. Next he pulled his shirt off then his pants and underwear before scooping up the pile and tossing it in the hamper in his adjoining bathroom. He held onto the bathroom door frame as he lastly removed his socks and tossed them on top of his other clothing. He caught a quick glimpse of his reflection in the mirror as he passed and stopped to take a second look. Lines had begun to grow in the corners of his eyes and bags were beginning to form underneath them. He groaned at the sight of them and covered his reflection before heading to the shower.

The warm water felt like heaven against his aching body. He had gone a little overboard with the stunts today. He refused to let his double do any of the minor ones; he insisted that he could take the beatings. At first he thought he could, until he heard a popping sound after being thrown backward in a scene. He didn’t tell the director about it but he spent the entire lunch break in his trailer trying (and failing) to crack his back. He let out a relieved “aah” as the pulsing water hit his back.

After his shower he wrapped a towel around his waist and walked back into his bedroom. He thought about pulling out a pair of pajamas or boxers to sleep in but decided against it. Besides, he found himself no longer tired. He grabbed the remote off the bed and turned on the television. Immediately the sounds of an old Doctor Who episode filled the room. He sat on the bed and watched as the Doctor and Rose investigated some case in 1950’s London before his hunger resurfaced. He rose headed back down the stairs. He reopened the fridge and again surveyed the contents. There was a box of Earl Grey tea on the top shelf. He raised an eyebrow in regards to how it got there before removing it and setting it on a nearby shelf. There was also a carton of milk that was inching towards its expiration date, some sharp cheddar cheese, some leftover dish that he couldn’t make out but he guessed it was some sort of beef, and random condiments. He pulled out a bottom shelf and frowned at the bag of rotten cauliflower before tossing it into the nearby rubbish bin. He pulled out the leftover beef dish and removed the plastic cover to take a whiff of it. Still fresh. He put it in the microwave for a couple of minutes. He removed the carton of milk and sniffed it. It didn’t smell sour. He took a cautious sip. Still good as well. He put on a quick pot of Earl Grey.

When his tea and meal was ready he carefully carried the items up the stairs and into his bedroom. He finished the late dinner as he watched the rest of _Doctor Who_ and the following episode. When he was done he placed the plate on the nightstand—taking special care not to knock off his lamp and alarm—and continued to flip through the channels. The tiredness that had threatened to overtake him when he came home had now completely dissipated. He landed on a rerun of _Chatty Man_ and watched it until the commercial break before turning the channel again. This time he landed on a showing of _Inopportune Affairs_. A part of him wanted to quickly change the channel to anything else. Yet another part of him couldn’t turn away from the film. Especially not when his favorite scene was on.

Cassie’s character (Lana) was seated at the table in the kitchen looking away from her lover Tisha (played by Daya) who stood in the middle of the room with her head in her hands. Tom hated that he missed the argument that came before this scene. The acting in it was phenomenal. (Daya had many faults but her talent wasn’t one of them). Tom sipped the last of his tea as the scene continued to play out. Tisha turned back to Lana, cupped her face in her hand, and placed a long kiss on her lips before saying, “I can’t wait for you to decide.”

Lana held Tisha’s hand; her mouth parted slightly before closing again. Her eyes watered and her voice wavered as she whispered out, “Don’t.” Tisha freed herself from Lana’s hold and walked to the door; it closed off screen. Now Lana rose from the table, her body visibly shaking, and walked to the sink. She opened the dishwasher and began to load it full of dishes. Her trembling hands dropped one causing it to shatter on the tiled floor. The ambient noises—cars, children playing nearby—began to fill the room as she stared at the broken plate. She looked as if she was about to pick it up but suddenly she grabbed another out of the dishwasher and slammed it down. Then another and another. The camera slowly panned in with each dropped dish or cup until only her face was visible. The surrounding outside noises and the crashing of the dishes were muffled before finally being silenced completely by her ragged breaths. Her lids fluttered as she looked down at the off screen chaos; a tear hung in the corner of one eye. She seemed as if she would break down and bawl like a baby. Then suddenly the screen went full again. The outside noises returned and she stood alone in the kitchen. She fell to her knees—her body still shaking—and slowly began to pick up the broken pieces that surrounded her before the scene cut to a different one.

Seeing Cassie on screen quietly sniffling—but not crying— in the wake of her rage made a pain shoot through his chest. Tom immediately regretted watching it and switched the channel before shutting the television off. He always loved the subtlety of Cassie’s acting in that scene. When they were friends he would applaud her for it and she would give him a laugh as she waved the compliment away before changing the subject. But now… Now that scene had a different effect on him. It made old memories—memories that he still fought to escape—swarm inside his head. He refused to be drowned in them again. He turned off the side lamp and, even though the room was dark and quiet, he grabbed a pillow and covered his head with it. He closed his eyes and mentally recited his lines until he drifted off to sleep.

\---------------

The following weekend Tom had a few free days and he hated every minute of it. The long drive was hell but he loved being on set. Working always provided him a great distraction from his thoughts. Now he had to find other ways to divert his attention. He spent most of his Friday running errands before taking in a double feature. On Saturday he (finally) decided to go grocery shopping. With his list in his hand, he marched down the aisles and filled his basket. He took special care not to fill it with too many perishables that would eventually spoil due to negligence. He spent the most time on the snack aisle.

He was about to reach for a package of HobNobs when he heard a voice call his name. “Thomas?”

He turned his head to where the voice came from and broke into a large smile. “Geneva?” He dropped the basket in his hand, giving no regards to any sensitive contents within it, and ran to his old friend. He embraced her and spun her around once before placing her back on the ground.

She exhaled an airy chuckle and said, “You handsome bastard! I haven’t seen you in years. I thought you forgot all about me.”

“Oh, now you know I could never forget about you, Genny.”

She smiled sweetly at the comment; the sight of it made the one on his face grow into a broad toothy grin. “So,” she said with a lick of her lips, “how long are you going to be in London?”

“A little while. I’m filming a movie here. Well, in Surrey actually.”

“Well,” she took a step forward and nearly pressed her large chest into his, “we should take advantage of your stay.” She licked her lips again and Tom felt his cock twitch.

He and Geneva were old friends with benefits. They had first met a year after he and Briony had ended. They were introduced at a party by a mutual friend. They spent most of the evening chatting, drinking and laughing before she asked him to walk her home. When they arrived she invited him up for a nightcap to “help sober him up” for the long trek back to his friend’s loft. The moment he entered her home she slammed him back against the door and kissed him hard on the mouth. They fucked twice on the floor before falling asleep against the cold hardwood. The next morning, Tom wasn’t sure how to deal with the situation. The only girl he had been with before her was Briony and he didn’t know how to tell poor Geneva that he wasn’t looking for another serious relationship anytime soon. Before he could even form a weak excuse, Geneva curtly informed him that was only interested in “having a little bit of fun.”

It turned out that she, too, had just gotten out of a relationship and was shying away from anything long-term. They then continued on like this: meeting whenever they were both in the same town and single for a quick fuck for a few days (or weeks). Most of the kinks he shared with Cassie were created during his and Geneva’s many trysts. The last time they were together they made plans to meet up the following night but her father died suddenly that day and she returned to Paris to comfort her grieving mother and siblings. Eventually, life and their careers kept them separated. But now, with the way she was looking at him as if she was an inch from ripping off his clothes and fucking him in the middle of the aisle, it was clear she wanted to rekindle their affair.

How could Tom say no? He greatly wanted another distraction for days like today where there were just too many hours-long gaps in his schedule, and, therefore, too many opportunities for his mind to wander back to Cassie. “Yeah,” he finally responded. “You should come over tomorrow night.”

“Why not tonight,” she asked as she ran her hand up his arms and across his shoulders.

He wanted e to slam her against the shelves and lick at then sink his teeth into her neck. But that, of course, would have to wait. “I’m having dinner with my family tonight,” he said ran a thumb across her lips. “I haven’t visited them since I’ve been back home and you know how my mother is.”

“I remember the horror stories,” she said with a chuckle before planting a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“You still have that little black number I love?”

“Darling,” she purred, “I have a whole wardrobe of new things you’ll love. As well as some new moves.” She grabbed her basket off the floor. “Call me, love. My number’s the same.” She turned and sauntered away leaving Tom momentarily dazed.

“Ooh,” he whispered to himself and ran a hand down his chest as he thought about the fun tomorrow evening would bring before picking up his basket and heading towards the checkout.

\---------------

Tom checked his reflection the rearview mirror of his car. After deciding that his tie was still a little _too_ crooked, he removed it and retied it as perfectly as he possibly could before grabbing the bottle of Pinot noir from the passenger seat and exiting. He marched up to the door of his childhood home and knocked. After waiting a few moments a response—there was none—he knocked again. He dusted excess dirt off his clothes as he waited. He wasn’t usually this obsessive about his appearance but he knew his mother liked to nitpick. If she spotted even a stray string on his suit she would frown and complain about him being untidy the entire time he was there. The very idea was enough to make him want to just say “fuck it” and return to his own home. He decided against the idea. One dinner would annoy but not kill him. Besides if he left now he would never hear the end of it. He could already hear his mother’s countless voicemails and see his older sister’s nonstop texts.

He knocked on the door a third time and rang the bell. “Where the hell is everyone,” he asked himself aloud as he looked at the time on his watch. It was a little after seven forty. He knew someone was home because of the line of cars parked along the curb. He was about to ring the bell again when the door suddenly opened.

“Big Head,” his younger sister Emma chirped out before hugging his neck. “You made it!”

“Em,” he shouted in reply as he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. “I didn’t know you were home.”

They broke their embrace and she stepped out of the way so he could enter. “Yeah, I got in a week ago. I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, it worked. I am very much surprised.” He kissed her forehead. “Is Sarah and mum around?”

“They’re in the drawing room. Mum has been complaining all evening about you not returning her calls.”

“I’ve been busy.” That was a half-lie. While the film did keep most of his time occupied whenever he was on set, this weekend provided him with excess time in which he could have used to phone his mother. He simply didn’t want to. Now as he stood in the foyer of his childhood home the guilt of his actions hit him hard. “I’ll go speak with her now. Put this on ice, love.” He handed Emma the bottle of wine then entered the room where his mother and older sister sat.

The moment he poked his head around the doorway frame, Sarah jumped up and squealed. “Thomas! We thought you weren’t coming!” She pecked both his cheeks before hugging him. “It seemed like you were avoiding us.”

“I’ve been—” He was about to repeat the half-lie he gave his younger sister but decided against it. “I’m sorry, Sarah. But I’m here now. Let’s make the best of it, yes?” She nodded in agreement and he walked to where his mother was still sitting. “Hello, mother.” He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “Sorry I’m so late.”

“You should’ve called,” she replied.

“You’re right, mother. I should have. I apolo—”

“I swear, Thomas, sometimes you are just like your father.” _That_ was another habit of hers that he disliked: comparing him to his father whenever he did something she disagreed with (which was far too often). “And what are you wearing.”

Tom sighed heavily and tried to keep his annoyance from appearing on his face. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing, mother?”

“Nothing at all, dear.” She said this with a smile but her tone was nothing less than judgmental. “I just thought you were going to wear one of your nice suits. But then if you can’t be bothered to phone you surely couldn’t be bothered to pop by the cleaners.” She rose and inspected his suit. She pulled at a stray thread on one of his vest buttons. “Or the tailors,” she added before pushing past him and walking into the dining room. “Come. Dinner is waiting.”

\---------------

Tom lost count of how many glasses of wine he had after three. The evening had been nothing short of a disaster. If his mother wasn’t picking at him over the tiniest things—she nearly went on a rant about the way he cut his beef—she was hassling him about his love life. “So, Thomas, dear, tell me,” she said between sips of wine, “is there anyone in your life? A woman I mean. Or are you too embarrassed to introduce us?”

Tom was too buzzed to hide his agitation and groaned loudly causing his sisters to chuckle behind their glasses. He was never sure if his mother asked this question out of true concern of if she wanted to find another reason to give him her patented look of disapproval: her thin lips tightly pursed, her eyes glossed over in disinterest, her nose turned upwards in smug dissatisfaction. None of the girls he brought home was ever good enough for her impossibly high standards. There was always _something_ wrong: too tall, too short; too thin, too fat; wrong breeding and class; correct breeding wrong family name. The only one she _did_ like was Briony and even then his mother complained—without irony—that she was “just too prim.”

Also, there was no way in hell he was going to bring up his failed relationship with Cassie. She would question why it ended and when he couldn’t give her a definitive answer she would point out his flaws—no matter how small—as the reason. Then she would move on to the probable imperfections that she believe Cassie possessed—based solely on his former relationships and his perceived “type.” He knew from past experiences.

“There’s no woman in my life, mother,” Tom said dully. “If there were I would gladly submit her for inspection.”

“Really, Big Head,” Emma questioned. “Usually you have a harem of girls at your feet. It’s pretty sad really.” Tom made a face and she giggled at it. “What? You know I’m right.”

Tom opened his mouth to defend himself but his mother spoke first. “You mean ‘pathetic,’ dear,” she corrected her daughter.

“You know what, mother,” Tom started. “I—”

“Tommy,” Sarah interjected. “Look how empty your glass is!” She poured some more wine into his still full glass. Tom took the hint and took a large swallow of the liquor. “Mum, I’m sure Tom is too busy with work to focus on a relationship.”

“Yes, what’s the name of the film you’re shooting now, Tom,” Emma asked.

“ _Thor 2_ ,” Tom answered before taking another sip of wine.

“Is that the superhero one,” his mother asked with genuine interest. His mother was the only parent who readily accepted his career choice. It took years for his father to stop nagging him about finding a “proper job.” He would bring up his son’s profession at the tiniest inkling just so he could demean it. Needless to say, it added an extra strain on their already tense relationship.

“Yes, it is,” Tom responded. He relaxed some yet the buzz from the wine remained. “We’re currently filming in Surrey then we’ll be off to Iceland in a few weeks.”

“Well, isn’t that exciting! Is that Australian boy—what is name?—is he still Thor?”

“His name is Chris Hemsworth, mum,” Emma chimed in. “And of course he’s still Thor! He actually looks like a god.”

Sarah rolled her eyes at her baby sister’s comment. “Oh, Em, not this again.”

“What? Can’t I fawn over an attractive man?”

“Not when he’s _married_!”

“Sarah, I said ‘fawn over’ not  ‘commit adultery with.’”

The sisters shared a laugh and Tom, feeling completely at ease now, joined in. They all continued to converse about their professions: Tom tried to divulge as much information as he possibly could about the film without spoiling them—or risking his job security if his journalist older sister decided to write a blurb about the movie; Emma gushed about a few acting opportunities she and her agent were excited about—the prospect looked good that she would land a role in a new miniseries; and Sarah talked, at great length, about the traveling she was doing for a series she was working on.

“It must be hell having to travel and be away from your family,” Emma lamented as she cut into the sponge cake in front of her with her fork.

“It gets a little lonely but—”

“And that’s why I worry so much about you, Thomas,” his mother interrupted. And just like that the subject had once again returned to his love life.

“Mother, please…” He found himself wishing he hadn’t downed the last of the wine fifteen minutes ago.

“Well, Thomas, you’re not getting any younger. You’re thirty-three—”

“I’m thirty-two!”

“—and you need to settle down. This…Casanova act of yours is long overdone, don’t you think, son?”

“Mother…,” he ran his hand down his face and exhaled a long frustrated huff. “Mum...if I told you I have a date tomorrow night would you...just please stop?”

“Are you being theoretical or do you really have a date?”

He clenched his jaw and slowly said through his teeth, “It’s an actual date, mother.”

“Really,” Sarah and Emma asked in unison.

“Really. Why do you both sound so surprised?”

“We’re not,” Emma said gently waving her hands in protest. “It’s just…Well, who is she?”

“It’s…” He momentarily pondered over whether he should disclose Geneva’s name or dismiss the question with a simple, “just some girl.” He figured the latter would only incur more questions or spark another unpleasant conversation with his mother. Since the night was already running longer than he liked he opted for the truth. “Geneva Dupont.”

“Geneva Dupont,” his sisters repeated in unison.

“Who is Geneva Dupont,” his mother asked.

His mother’s puzzled expression reminded him that she had never met his devoted fuck buddy. He instantly regretted not responding to his sister’s question with a dismissive retort. He had received his mother’s disapproving glare enough times this evening. “She’s…no one mother,” Tom finally answered. “Just an old friend.”

“With benefits,” Sara mumbled under her breath. The remark earned her an angry stare from her brother and, once she realized her faux pas, mouthed out, “I’m sorry.” But it was too late.

“What’s a friend with benefits,” their mother asked. The trio exchanged glances but remained silent. “Well?” Sarah opened her mouth but then decided against it and closed it again. “Answer me.” Their mother never raised her voice when she was upset. She didn’t have to. If the shift in her normally soft tone didn’t properly convey her emotion then her demeanor did. Right now she sat back straight, thin lips pursed, eyes narrow, and her arms folded across her full chest. “Well,” she said again; this time her tone was more demanding.

Emma relented. She took a quick sip of her wine and said, “A friend with benefits is someone who…well…let’s just say that when Tom has an itch he can’t reach…Geneva scratches it for him.”

“I still don’t…Oh. Oh!” Their mother’s face soured into her famous disapproving look. Tom prepared to excuse himself from another possible tongue lashing—dinner had ended and with it went his obligation to stay. “Oh, Thomas,” his mother sorrowfully said. “Must you _always_ behave like your father?”


	20. Chapter 20

Geneva shivered and pulled her coat tighter to protect herself from the chilly October night air. The fact that she didn’t have much on under it wasn’t helping her either. She brushed a lock of hair that flew into her eyes away before knocking on the door twice then ringing the bell. The door opened and a freshly showered Tom stood before her. His hair was still wet and the shirt he wore clung to his lean but toned frame making the definition of his slight abs and V-cuts visible. Geneva found herself suddenly unbothered by the cold weather. She chewed a corner of her mouth as her eyes travel down his body. She unabashedly let them linger on the way his shorts clung to his cock. “Hello, love,” she said finally.

“Are you speaking to me or my dick,” he asked with a short laugh.

“Both,” she retorted as she pushed pass him. Tom laughed at her reply as he closed the door behind her. Once inside, she dropped her purse on the couch and casually surveyed his home. “I like it. Much better than your last place.”

“That’s not saying much seeing as the last time we met my place was a shitty one bedroom with an even shittier location.”

“You have done very well for yourself,” she said as she sauntered towards him. She ran her hands across his chest then down his abs before finally dropping one to his crotch and rubbing his cock through his shorts. Tom gently bucked his hips at her touch. It seemed as if it had been forever since a woman had touched him and he was more than ready to end his celibacy. He grabbed her face and kissed her hard on the mouth. She nearly stumbled backwards from the force of his kiss. She grabbed onto his forearms to steady herself. He pressed his body into hers as her tongue began to invade his mouth. He fought at the tie holding her coat closed as their tongues wrestled.

He pulled away from her but continued to tug at her coat. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath. Why were his hands so dumb at loosing such a simple tie?

“Wait,” Geneva said with a giggle. She figured it must have been a while since he had sex due to his apparent eagerness. She took a few steps back and easily untied and removed her coat revealing the red lace underwear beneath it. Tom took a moment to appreciate her beauty. The red lingerie stood out against her pale freckled skin; her panties hung onto the slight curve of her hips; her bra was cut low enough so that her already erect nipples poked out. Her large bosom bounced as she walked toward him. “I’ll go slow.” She pushed him and he stumbled back onto a chair; his long legs dangled over an arm. “Well,” she smirked, “slow enough.”

Tom adjusted himself so that he was now sitting upright in the chair. Geneva stepped between his legs and Tom yanked her closer so that her breasts were directly level with his face. She gasped at his sudden movements and held onto the back of the chair to balance herself as he took her nipple into his mouth. She moaned and grabbed the back of his head as he licked and sucked on it. “Mmm…bite me,” she commanded and Tom obeyed without hesitation. She let out an “ooh” at the tingle the bite sent through her but it wasn’t enough to satisfy her. “You know what I want, Thomas. Harder!”

The second bite was so rough that she was sure that his teeth might have broken through her skin. “Yes…like that!” His hands began to roam up her thighs before resting between them. He fondled her through her underwear and wasn’t surprised to find that she was already wet. He knew Geneva well. He knew that she _always_ liked it rough. Tender caresses and soft kisses absolutely _bored_ her. He pulled her panties to the side and immediately began to finger her as his mouth moved to her other breast. He suck and bit down hard on it before traveling his tongue across her toned stomach and biting her exposed flesh. “Fuck,” she called out each time his teeth grazed her skin. She moaned again and gnashed her teeth as she bucked her hips against his palm.

Tom should have loved this: a beautiful woman offering herself to him; her calling out in ecstasy at the lewd sound of his fingers slipping in and out of her wetness. His body seemed to move methodically—kiss here; lick there—but his mind was miles away. He wanted Geneva to play the lustful distraction she always did. But now that he had her here he found it harder to divert his attention to her. His focus was so off that he hadn’t even noticed that she had already came from his fingers and were now sucking her juices off of them.

He really should have been in heaven now but there was an odd feeling stirring inside him. He felt as if he was cheating. He knew the feeling was ridiculous but he still couldn’t shake it. He felt that he should push Geneva away and kick her out of his home and his life then beg forgiveness but to who? He was a single man and, therefore, could do whatever—and _who_ ever—he wanted.

But the one person he wanted above all else was an ocean away and, even worse, didn’t want him. _Oh god no_ , he thought as he tried to push the bothersome thoughts away. He wasn’t going to think about _her_. Not now. He returned his attention back to Geneva. She firmly pressed her thin lips against his before grabbing at his shirt and nearly ripping it when she couldn’t easily pull it off his body. Now she was the one who was eager. He chuckled in his throat as he helped her remove his clothing. As soon as she saw his bare chest, she promptly licked it. He let out an exclamation of surprise when she bit his right nipple. He forgot she didn’t just like to receive bites but to give them as well. “You like that,” she asked with a devilish grin. Before Tom could reply in the affirmative she dug her nails into his chest and began to rake then down it. She left eight rows of faint red marks; two of them had broken through his skin and had a couple pellets of blood dripping from them. She quickly licked at the blood while her hands reached into his shorts and freed his still flaccid cock. “What the hell,” she spat out. “You’re usually hard as a rock by now.”

“Sorry. I-I had a long day. I think I’m still a little tired,” he lied. He had finished the last of his errands before noon. To while away the rest of his morning he took in a movie then had a late lunch with his sister, Emma, before returning home and taking a nap. All of that was done by four. The true reason he couldn’t get it up was due to that nagging feeling that he was somehow cheating.

“Aww, poor baby,” Geneva cooed. “Here let me help you wake up.” She took his cock in her mouth. She kept her gray eyes locked on his as she stroked him while bobbing and sucking his cock. Tom tried to get into the blow job—he grabbed a handful of her black hair and pushed her down farther—but nothing worked. Geneva slapped his hand away and sat back on her heels. “Still nothing,” she mused as she massaged her jaw. She didn’t bother to hide her annoyance. She rolled her eyes and rose back to her feet. “Maybe I should just go because you’re obviously not into me.” She reached for her coat and he grabbed her wrist to halt her.

“No! Wait! Just…give me a minute. I can get it up.”

She tossed her coat back to the ground and folded her arms across her chest. “Fine.” Tom started to stroke his hand up and down his length but to no avail. His cock refused to cooperate with him. Geneva rolled her eyes again before exhaling in frustration. “Still nothing!”

“Well…It’s kind of hard to do it when you’re standing there judging me!”

“No, Thomas, it’s _not_ hard and that’s the problem!” She grabbed her coat and slipped it back on over her shoulders.

“No, Genny, wait! Give me another chance!” He removed her coat and tossed it on the couch. “Just…Just give me a minute.”

“I already gave you a minute.”

“Then give me another one! I promise this time I’ll get it up and then I’ll give you the fucking of a lifetime.”

She relented and watched him as he closed his eyes and began jacking himself off. Sure enough, this time he did get hard. She licked her lips at the image of him exhaling shallow breathes as his hand twisted around his thick, veiny cock. She fell to her knees before him, swatted his hand away, and replaced it with her mouth. “Fuck,” Tom said as she sucked on his length. He wanted to look down and watch her but if he did he might lose the fantasy he had created.

In his mind, it wasn't Geneva before him but Cassie. It was Cassie that stood before him in fire red lingerie. It was Cassie’s juices that remained on his fingers. It was Cassie’s full lips wrapped around his cock now and her warm mouth he was stroking into. When he brought his hand to the back of Geneva’s head he nearly whined in disappointment to find it bereft of the luscious curls he had become accustomed to. Despite this, he was still able to maintain the fantasy.

He continued to fuck Geneva’s mouth all the while imagining it was Cassie’s. He felt his orgasm building in his lower abdomen. “I’m about to—fuck!” His words seemed to spur Geneva on. She began to knead his balls with one hand while she used the other to insert a digit into his asshole. Her mouth continued moving on his shaft as if she was trying to suck the very soul out of him. Tom couldn’t hold out any longer. “Fuck! Cassie,” he exclaimed as he came down her throat.

Geneva’s eyes popped open at the name. Tom pulled out of her mouth and she immediately spat his come on the floor. “Are you serious,” she angrily asked as she wiped the excess fluid off her lips.

Tom wrinkled his brow in confusion. He still hadn’t caught his blunder. “I thought you liked when I came in your throat?”

“Yes, but not when you call out another woman’s name!” Geneva completely understood the arrangement she and Tom had. Just sex. No commitment. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t be upset that while she was doing all the work another woman was getting the credit. She didn’t trek across London to be ignored.

“What do you mean,” he asked in genuine confusion. “I called your name.”

She spat out a sarcastic laugh and muttered curses under her breath as she put her coat back on and tied it. “Asshole!”

Tom quickly readjusted his clothes before grabbing Geneva’s elbow. “Genny, please don’t leave. We can—”

“Who is Cassie?”

The question caught him off guard. He released his grip on her and stuttered, “Wh-what?”

She noticed his uneasiness and softened her tone a little. “The woman whose name you called out? Cassie. Who is she?”

He looked away to some ugly painting hanging by the door that his sister, Sarah, bought him a few Christmases ago. “She’s, um,” he cleared his throat. “She’s no one.”

“‘No one?’” She gave him an incredulous look as she put her hands on her hips.

“No one,” he repeated the lie. “She’s…just some girl.”

“‘Just some…’ You know you could at least look me in the eye when you lie to me, Thomas.” She plucked her purse off the couch. “Do you know how many guys I could be with right now? Do you?” Tom didn’t answer her. Instead he sighed heavily before sitting on the edge of the coffee table and resting his head in his hands. “I fucking offered to listen,” she dug into the side pocket of her purse and pulled out a gold band, “and you’re giving me bullshit!” She slipped the band onto her left ring finger. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, Thomas!”

Tom looked back at her. “Genny, I—” The shimmering band caught his attention. The sight of it caused a sickening feeling to pool in the pit of his stomach. It was one thing to _feel_ like he was cheating on his wronged ex-lover but it was another to _actually_ —even if unknowingly—commit adultery. Tom couldn’t pull his eyes away from the jewelry. He tensed his jaw and asked, “What’s that?”

Geneva looked at her wedding ring. “Oh, I got married over the summer,” she casually replied.

“I can see that,” he retorted; he could barely hide the agitation in his voice.

“Then why did you ask,” she coolly questioned. She was completely unfazed by his tone.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were married?”

“Why didn’t you ask?”

Her nonchalant reply incited his anger. “Goddammit, Geneva!” She jumped at the sound of his elevated tone. Outside of the bedroom games they sometimes played she had never genuinely heard him raise his voice. It surprised but didn’t frighten her. “Wh-wh-why would you use me to cheat on your husband? I’ve told you about my dad!”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this Cassie? How do I know she’s not your girlfriend or your wife?”

“Because I would have told you if she was! Because _that’s_ our agreement! We only did this if we were both _single_! Now you’ve turned me into…and adulterer!”

Geneva rolled her eyes. “You sound like some self-righteous preacher. Would it make you feel better if I told you my husband knows about you and that he’s perfectly okay with it?”

“You know goddamn well it won’t!” He started to pace the room. The evening did not go at all how he hoped it would. They were supposed to spend the evening fucking and laughing and eating up his newly purchased food. The whole point of this arrangement was to avoid fights like these. No getting attached. No jealousy. And, most importantly, no one got hurt. He thought about Geneva’s husband and his stomach turned again. “Just...Why didn’t you tell me you were married?”

“You want the truth?”

“Please!”

“I wanted to fuck you again.”

Tom waited for the rest of her reasoning but none came. “Is…is that seriously it? You just wanted to fuck?” She gently humped her shoulders in indifference. “You could have fucked your husband!”

“Yes. And I also could have fucked any of the other men I keep on retainer,” she walked up to him and trailed her index down his bare chest; a couple of the red scratches had already begun to fade but the rest of them proudly remained, “but I hadn’t had that marvelous cock of yours in a while.” She grabbed his crotch but he flinched and pushed her away.

“Stop it, Geneva. Don’t you care about your husband?” She shrugged her shoulders again and Tom made a disgusted face in response.

“Oh, please! Don’t get so high and mighty on me, Tom. You and I are the same person.”

“What? We are _nothing_ alike!”

“Sure we are, darling. We both like a good suck and fuck without the messiness of a long-term relationship. That’s why we work so well together.”

Tom mockingly nodded his and exhaled a short wry chuckle. “But only _one_ of us is married. Why? Why even…take the plunge if you’re just going to toss your vows away? Why do something so selfish?”

“‘Selfish?’” She gasped in offense. “I fucking fell in love, Tom! Or at least I thought I had. Look…Pierre’s a good guy. But good isn’t good enough. The sex went dry a month in so I—”

“So you cheated,” Tom finished for her. She nodded in reply. “Well, no offense, Genny, but that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. I know you. You love turning men out.” Geneva furrowed her brow at the peculiar phrase. “You,” his eyes darted around as he searched for the right words. “Sexually you like to turn men on to new things.” She nodded that she now understood. “Why couldn’t you just do that with him?”

“Honestly? I missed the thrill of secret affairs. The sex is always…hotter.”

Tom shook his head and groaned at the comment. “Who are you? You can’t possibly be the same woman I’ve known for over a decade.”

She rolled her eyes at the comment. “Again with the self-righteous act? I told you, Tom. We. Are. Alike. We don’t fall in love at least not for long. It’s too…too much. We’d rather have la petite mort than deal with all the bullshit that comes before or after it.”

Tom shook his head. “No. No. That’s not me.”

“Please! You know damn well the only important thing in your life, the only thing you’ll ever love, is what’s between your legs. The only difference is I have the balls enough to admit that.”

“That’s a lie!”

“Oh is it? Who’s Cassie again?” She laughed at the hurt expression that grew on his face at the mention of his ex’s name. “That’s what I thought. You’re no better than me. If you were you’d be with her—wherever she is—instead of here with me trying to fuck the memory of her away. That was what you were doing, right? When you called out her name earlier?”

“Fuck you, Geneva,” he said softly but sternly.

She clapped her hands and bust out into a loud tittering laugh. “You already tried that and failed!”

“Get out.”

“Fine. You were only good for one thing and since you obviously can’t do _that_ anymore…”

“Get out of my house,” he yelled and pointed to the exit. “This…thing is over!”

“No shit, Sherlock.” She marched to the door. “Thanks for the weak orgasms, you fucking bastard!”

“Just get the fuck out!”

She opened the door and called out, “Fuck you!”

“No, fuck you!”

“Fuck you,” she screamed and slammed the door behind her so hard that the ugly painting Tom’s sister gifted him swung in reaction. It looked as if it would fall from its hanger but didn’t. The constant movement annoyed him. He held it still before locking the door and hopping up the stairs to his bedroom.

He fell face first on the bed. He let out a muffled “fuck” into the covers before rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling. “Fuck,” he yelled out. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he continued to mentally curse himself. He hated himself more in that moment than he had in the last few months. He hated all the time he wasted with Geneva. He hated that he tried to use her to erase Cassie. But above all else, he hated that Geneva was right.


	21. Chapter 21

Cassie sat at the long table in her realtor’s office across from a very amorous couple. The woman was very pregnant and cuddled up to her husband who was whispering into her ear. She’d giggle and blush before pecking him on the lips or rubbing his nose with hers. Cassie normally didn’t mind PDA’s but after suffering through the couple’s constant canoodling for the last hour she was almost at the point of gagging. Truthfully, she was a little jealous. Even though she would never admit it—not even to herself—watching the duo made her miss Tom. Or rather she missed those quiet moments spent lying in his arms with her head pressed against the warmth of his chest. He would be resting his head atop her curls and every now and again he would gently peck her forehead. A soft smile began to curl in one corner of her mouth at the memory. She shook the thought away.

In the last three weeks she found herself randomly thinking about Tom. They were usually flashes of a memory that she quickly brushed to the back of her mind. She couldn’t allow herself to dwell on them. Not even for a second. She knew that going down that road would upset her emotionally and she had only just gotten back into “fighting position”—as her uncle would say. Yet as she continued to watch the couple sitting in front of her she couldn’t help but to feel a twinge in her heart. She wanted that again.

“Okay, Miss Greene,” her realtor’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. She slid a package with a tarnished bronze key hanging on a thin key chain sitting atop it across the table to Cassie. “Here is the deed and the key to your new home.”

Cassie opened the package and smiled as she flipped through the contents. It contained not only a copy of the deed but information about the recent inspection, estimated property tax, and mortgage payments. “Thank you,” she said finally as she rose and shook her realtor’s hand before shaking the hand of the man sitting across from her.

“And thank you,” the man said as he helped lift his pregnant wife out of her chair. The poor woman looked as if she was moments away from exploding.

“Uh,” Cassie turned to her realtor, “when can I move in?”

“As soon as you like. The Newman’s here closed on their new home last week.”

“It’s a beaut,” the pregnant woman exclaimed. “It’s the size of a football field!”

“Really? How many kids are you guys having,” she politely joked.

“Well, we’re expecting twins now.” Cassie gave a nod of her head. _That_ explained why her stomach was so large. “But,” the woman continued, “we already have six at home.”

Cassie’s eyes widened at the large number. The man chuckled at her surprised expression. “I know! It’s a little high!” _A little,_ Cassie thought. _Someone needs to teach this man definitions_. “We just can’t keep our hands off each other!”

“Apparently.” She quickly covered her mouth when she realized the rudeness of her comment. She started to apologize but the man stopped her with a laugh and a wave of his hand.

“It’s perfectly fine,” he assured her before turning his attention back to his wife. They again rubbed noses and pecked each other on the lips repeatedly. The display made that gagging feeling incite in the pit of Cassie’s stomach again. “I, uh, I think I should go. I have a lot of other things to do today. Thank you again.” She shook the couple’s and her realtor’s hand one last time before finally exiting the building.

She unlocked and entered her uncle’s truck she borrowed for the day. She turned on the radio as she pulled off the lot and into the heavy late Friday afternoon traffic. Beyonce’s “1+1” cooed out of the speakers and Cassie sang along to the tune. “We…ain’t got..nothing…without love. Darling, you…got…enough…for…the both of us. Make love to me.” The words of the love song stirred up images of Tom kissing across her chest then down her stomach before laying between her thighs. She could almost feel his tongue flicking at her clit. She could even almost feel his large hands holding her in place as she ground against his mouth. Her panties began to dampen at the memory. _Nope_ , she thought as she clicked off the radio. She refused to be sucked in again. _He did you dirty, girl. Remember that._ She rolled down her window in hopes that the cool air would lower her rising body heat.

She spent the next few minutes driving in silence as she decided to detour to the new home she purchased. It had been hell trying to convince her grandmother to move. Eartha had lived in that same house for the last fifty years. She had raised three children in that house as well as theirs. It held way too many memories for her to just give it up. “But, Ma’dear,” Cassie had said, “I can buy you a new house and you can fill it with new memories. Imagine living in a place where you don’t have to worry about shoddy plumbing or freezing winters or sweltering summers. Imagine cooking in a kitchen with appliances that actually work.”

Her grandmother simply shook her head in reply. She refused to move. The woman really was stubborn. Cassie had to elicit the help of her Uncle Johnny. She figured that if her grandmother just saw the house Cassie was interested in then she would change her mind. Johnny had to trick his mother into visiting the home. (He told her he was treating her to lunch but that he had to stop by a friend’s house first.) She was upset at his deception but, to Cassie’s elation, the moment Eartha set foot into the large home she had fallen in love.

She gasped and stared in awe at the mahogany floors, the spiral etchings carved into the large archways, and the five spacious bedrooms. The kitchen was large enough to properly cook a large holiday meal. The stainless steel appliances were a few years old but still in better condition than what she had at home. (Cassie assured her that if she wasn’t happy with any of them she would gladly replace them with brand new items. All she had to do was say the word.) The house had two full bathrooms and one half one so there would no longer be a wait to use it. The backyard was almost as large as the house. Eartha could imagine comfortably throwing parties out there. She was a very social person and loved having lots of company over but it was always hell having to cram too many bodies into small living room; and the even smaller backyard was even worse. But in this new house she could invite as many guests as she wanted and never have to worry about people stepping over each other.

“Cassie, baby, this…” Eartha’s voice cracked as she spoke; she was sure she would burst into joyous tears at any moment. “This is too much. I can’t let you spend all of your money on this.”

“It’s actually not as expensive as it looks,” Cassie corrected.

“Still. I can’t ask you to buy me this. You should be spending your money—”

“However I want,” she finished for her grandmother. “And what I want is for you to have the house of your dreams.”

“No, no, no,” Eartha stubbornly replied with a shake of her head. “I can’t—”

“Mama,” Johnny interrupted, “Cassie wants to take care of you. Let her.”

“But what about my old home. I can’t leave all those good memories behind.”

“You won’t, mama. You take them with you everywhere. You don’t need that house to remember Papa and Patricia and Diana.” He was barely able to hide the sadness in his voice as he recanted the names of his long deceased relatives. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants and loudly cleared his throat in order to regain his composure.

“But…but this is too much house for one person.”

“Unc will stay here with you,” Cassie said. Johnny looked at his niece and flashed a tiny smile before his face returned to its usual stoic appearance. She had never mentioned to him about his moving into the new home and he hadn’t planned on asking her about it either. He assumed that when the time came he would take his remaining savings and rent a cheap apartment—maybe a cheap studio the college kids are always snatching up. He was more than appreciative that she thought of him as well. “And there’s enough rooms that whenever Luke’s kids visit they won’t have to share. I know Trisha would love that!” She hooked an arm in the crook of her grandmother’s elbow and kissed her forehead. “You’re running out of excuses, old woman.”

Eartha could no longer argue with her granddaughter. She _had_ always wanted a new house but their finances did permit them the luxury of even looking. She and her husband John were always struggling to make ends meet and putting money aside was usually an arduous task. There was always something that ate into their savings. By the time John died, Eartha had barely three hundred dollars in her account, three children to raise, and no job. But that was decades ago. Now her youngest granddaughter was finally fulfilling a dream that Eartha thought she had long let go of. She mentally said a prayer of thanks as she hugged her granddaughter.

Now Cassie pulled into the driveway of her new family home—that was another bonus of the house: no more parking on the curb and praying some asshole don’t knick your car. She got out of the vehicle, walked to the front door, and unlocked it. Her heels clacked against the hardwood floor as she stepped inside the large foyer. She pulled out her cell and opened a notepad app in order to take notes of any renovations that popped into her head. The dark red paint that the previous owners seemed to love—it was in nearly every room of the house—would be the first thing to go. She would go with a lighter, softer color. Maybe something in the yellow family or a blue. The half bath on the main floor was fine as is but the one in the master bedroom could use a nice retiling. The wallpaper in the room she choose for a bedroom would no doubt be coming up—honestly who still used wallpaper?—as would the carpet. She wasn’t sure if she’d stick with the wood floors underneath them or choose a different color carpet. She’d probably stick with the wood. It’s easier to clean.

She continued walking around the house. She would add larger windows to the office. She looked to look out into the environment when she was working. The door that lead to the backyard would have to be switched for a sliding one. It would be much less work than the door already in place. Also, the backyard would require the most work. She would put a patio at the entrance, maybe a few tables around. She could hire a gardener to plant some flowers. Maybe she’ll set up some string lights—she could already see them lighting up evening parties.

While typing in the last of her renovation ideas into the app, she glanced at the time on her cell. It was almost four thirty and she still had a few more errands to run. She saved her note and set a reminder before snapping a few pictures of the kitchen. That would be the room she would devote most of her time on. She wanted her grandmother to have the kitchen of her dreams so that she could have the space to “get her Chef Boyardee on”—as her cousin Sean would say.

She was thankful that her royalty check was large enough to afford her with the means to spoil her loved ones like this. But she also was no fool. She had to be smart and make sure that the money lasted until the next quarter. She divided the money up so that it wouldn’t be spent all at once—and for someone who had never seen a check that large outside of her dreams splurging would have been all too easy. She put enough aside for herself then set up new accounts for her uncle and grandmother. She even slid a few thousand in Luke’s direction to help with his budding family. His pride refused to let him accept it. (His wife, Rashida, however, nearly ripped the check from Cassie’s hand. She wouldn’t let her pride stand in the way of paying off a few debts.) She chuckled at the memory of Rashida thanking every god in existence before trapping Cassie in a bear hug.

Cassie looked at the time on her cell again. She still had three errands left to run but there was no way she was getting them all done before the buildings closed. (Especially not with that godforsaken traffic.) She would have to add them to her to-do list for tomorrow. She didn’t mind though. She preferred to fill her days with a list of tasks—no matter now menial. On the one hand it made her feel a lot less useless; on the other, it kept her thoughts from drifting to a certain _someone_.

Or, at least, it usually did. Even now as she walked back toward the front entrance of the home images of Tom invaded her mind. She exhaled an agitated sigh. She wished she knew what triggered the memory. Honestly, with the way her mind was intent on torturing her it could have been anything. Just a few days ago the increasingly chilly weather made her think of Tom’s laugh. (She still hadn’t found the connection.) _You know what_ would _help, Cas? A fucking lobotomy._ She cackled at the thought—the sound echoed off the empty walls—before exiting (and locking) the house and entering her vehicle.

\-------------------

The next morning Cassie sat at her grandmother’s dining table patiently awaiting breakfast. She wiped a smudge off the lens of her reading glasses with the edge of her shirt before sitting them back on her face. She pulled the day’s newspaper from the ugly orange plastic bag it came in and pulled it open. She skimmed through the pages not really reading any of the articles. Her grandmother placed a plate of grits, scrambled eggs, sausage, and a couple pieces of toast in front of her. When Cassie saw the breakfast she gleefully tossed the paper to the side, stabbed a sausage link with her fork, and began chewing it. Her grandmother shook her head at her hunger. “Take a minute to swallow, child,” she said as she took a seat across the table. Cassie only smiled in reply then took another large bite of the link. “I see you found your glasses.” She pulled a packet of Sweet’N Low from the box that sat on the table, opened it, and shook the sweetener into her coffee. “Where’d you find ‘em?”

Cassie swallowed the meat then took a large gulp of her glass of apple juice before replying. “They were in the bottom of one of my bags.” She pulled back the lid of the glass sugar bowl next to her and sprinkled two spoons of sugar over her grits followed by a few shakes of pepper. She stirred the ingredients causing the steam from the hot meal to rise up. She brought a spoon of it to her mouth, blew on it, and then ate it. “Mmm…So good…”

Eartha smiled at the comment and took a cautious sip of her hot coffee as she watched her granddaughter shovel two more spoons of grits into her mouth. “Slow down, girl! You gonna choke.”

Cassie exhaled an annoyed sigh before slathering a helping of grits on the edge of a piece of toast and biting into it. She took slow, exaggerated chews. “Better,” she asked with a sly smile. Eartha was not amused.

“Don’t get smart, Cas.” Cassie mumbled an apology between bites of her eggs. Eartha accepted the half-assed apology—it was too early in the morning for arguing—and continued watching Cassie tear into the meal. Who would have thought at just a few months ago this was the same girl who could barely finish a cup of tea let alone a whole breakfast? It seemed her appetite had returned with vengeance and Eartha was glad of it. Cassie pinched the arm of her glasses and adjusted them as she took another bite of her sausage. “You should really put those in their case. The lens look a lil’ scratched.”

“Yeah, I should.” Cassie swallowed the last of her apple juice and walked to the fridge to refill it. She took a gulp and poured some more into her glass before returning the container to the fridge and retaking her seat at the table. “But I lost the case.”

Her grandmother shook her head at the news. Of course she lost it. If losing things were a competition Cassie would come in first every time. “When?”

Cassie scrunched up her face as she thought back to the date. “Hmm…a…little over two years ago.”

“Cas! You’d lose your head if it wasn’t screwed on to your neck. You should buy you a case and maybe a new pair of glasses with that new money you got.”

“Nah. I ain’t gonna do nothing but lose it. Besides I’d rather splurge on new clothes. I haven’t really bought anything for myself yet. You wanna go shopping with me this afternoon, ma’dear?”

“Child, no.”

“Why not,” Cassie asked with a pout.

“Because I’m too old to be walking around all those malls and outlets and what have you. I’d rather stay at home and enjoy my Saturday if you don’t mind.”

“What are you talking ‘bout, Ma’dear? You’re still a pretty young thing.” She began to quietly sing the chorus to Michael Jackson’s “P.Y.T.” Her grandmother waved her hands to shush her.

“Cassie, please. It’s too early for all that.”

“It’s never too early for Michael.” Not being able to resist mischief, she continued singing the song.

“The only thing that should be sung this early is gospel music.” Cassie immediately began singing the pop tune as if it was a spiritual. Eartha couldn’t help but to burst into a cackling laugh. “Oh, Lord! Save my soul!”

“Now y’all both know it’s too early for all that caterwaulin’,” Johnny said as he shuffled into the dining room.

Cassie covered her mouth and mumbled, “I’m sorry, Unc.”

“Eh,” she said with a hunch of his shoulders, “I was already up.” He ruffled the top of her curls—something she _hated_ —and continued towards the kitchen to make himself a plate. The trio continued chatting and laughing while they finished their breakfast. In the past weeks, these moments of peace had become rare.

The tension between Odessa and Cassie only worsened after their fight. They hardly acknowledged one another and when they did it was usually to exchange dirty looks and vulgar insults under their breaths. They couldn’t stay in a room together for more than five minutes. Once while watching an episode of _Wheel of Fortune_ , Cassie casually shared her observation about a contestant who was just awful at the game and Odessa—not being able to resist a chance to attack her cousin—spouted out a rude comment. Cassie wanted to reply with a cruel comment of her own but she remembered her grandmother’s weak condition and let her cousin’s remark pass. At least she did until later that evening after their grandmother had retired for the night. Without their grandmother to hold them back, Cassie and Odessa verbally tore into each other. They only stopped when Johnny entered the room and berated them both like children.

A week ago the two were at it again. This time the argument had turned physical. Cassie had tried her best to ignore her older cousin’s constant prodding all evening but Odessa wouldn’t let up. She had made one tacky remark too many—the last straw was her saying that Cassie’s parents killed themselves to get away from her. Cassie instantly sprung up from the seat she was sitting in and slapped Odessa hard across the face. The surprise hit sent Odessa tumbling backwards. Before she knew it, Cassie was on her. She pulled her head back by her hair and continued slapping her—front hand and back—until her palms ached. She left Odessa dazed and red faced on the floor. Odessa was surprised—and, if she was big enough to admit it, embarrassed—by the attack. If she knew that Cassie was holding back on the strengths of her hits, she would have been thankful. That night, Odessa called a friend and spent the rest of the evening with them; and Cassie had the best sleep she had since she returned home.

Yet the following morning the incident weighed heavily on her mind. At the time she was still in the process of house hunting and the thought of Odessa possibly bringing that old hatred into her new home gave Cassie a severe stress headache. Wasn’t it bad enough they shared a bloodline? No. Odessa was going to have to find someone else to mooch off of. (Cassie was sure there was still an old wealthy man somewhere in Shreveport or Bossier that Odessa could make her new sugar daddy.)

She was all set to ungraciously inform her repugnant cousin of her decision but when Odessa returned home later that evening she boldly remarked, “I’m moving to New Orleans,” while glaring at Cassie. Cassie couldn’t help but to fall over in laughter. No doubt this decision had everything to do with the near-ass whooping Cassie delivered the night before. Their grandmother tried to shush her raucous laughter—she covered her mouth but continued to pettily titter—so that Odessa could explain herself. “I have a friend down there. He’s in a jazz band and he wants me to sing back up.”

“Girl, you can’t hold a note if you put it in a bucket,” Cassie blurted out between laughs. Her grandmother shushed her again before sending her to her room like a reprimanded teenager.

As happy as the idea made her, Cassie realized that Odessa leaving would only temporarily solve the housing problem. In six or seven months she would be back after her musician lover tired of her. Cassie would coolly and quickly deny her cousin residence; but her grandmother and uncle would never turn her away. But _that_ was a battle she would have to fight when the time came.

Now Cassie was preparing her second bowl of grits. “If you eat anymore of that you gonna explode,” her uncle opined as he put his dirty dishes in the sink.

“I don’t know where she puts it,” her grandmother mused as she rose from the table and entered the kitchen. Cassie ignored their comments and sat back at the table and dove into the food.

“Well, I’m gonna shower then run some errands before I head over to Ernest’s to help with his roof.”

“I don’t know why he needs you when he has five grown boys he could call.” Johnny was about to reply but he decided against it. They already had this conversation three times this week and he was in no mood to try for a forth. Instead he gently squeezed his mother’s shoulders and ruffled Cassie’s hair again—she replied with an annoyed groan and he laughed at it—before heading towards the bathroom.

“Don’t forget to make copies of the new house key,” Cassie called after him. John nodded and waved his hand as he shut the door behind him. Eartha finished the last of the dishes before making herself another cup of coffee and returning to the table. She picked up the paper and, unlike Cassie, actually began to read it. “Can I have the entertainment section? I wanna see if there is anything interesting happening today.” Her grandmother sorted the paper and handed the section to her.

Cassie skimmed the articles until she landed on one that caught her eye. The headline read: SPIELBERG PRODUCED FILM TO SHOOT IN DECEMBER. She read the rest of the article and learned that the movie was the one Spielberg and Charlie had been in talks about. Charlie’s dream had come true. She was immensely proud of and excited for him. She wanted to call and congratulate him but they hadn’t spoken since she was in L.A.

He had called both her grandmother’s house and her cell numerous times to check on her but she was still too despondent to talk to him. His multitudinous texts also went unanswered. Eventually he just stopped trying. Even though she was now doing better she still couldn’t talk to him. She felt horrible for her previous actions: the fighting; the drinking. She felt sick to her stomach just thinking about it. She wanted—no _needed_ —to call him but she didn’t know what she’d say. Rather, she didn’t know where to begin. Should she apologize or thank him first? Matter of fact she wasn’t even sure if he’d take her call. That thought saddened her even more. She tossed the paper aside, removed her glasses, and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

Her actions pulled her grandmother’s attention from the paper in front of her. “You all right, dear,” she asked.

“Yeah,” Cassie replied. “I just…I, uh, I forgot I had so much to do before my hair appointment at noon. Then I have to drive by the bank before three.” She rose and washed her bowl before disappearing into her bedroom. “I should go get ready.”

\-------------------

Cassie was warmly greeted when she enter her dear friend Jai’lisa’s beauty salon that afternoon. The moment she opened the door she was meet with a barrage of kisses and hugs from people she hadn’t seen in years. After the love fest came the seemingly neverending questions. Most of them were about Daya and her arrest. Cassie’s face visibly displayed her discomfort and Jai’lisa waved away the crowd of people. “Damn! Step back! Let the girl fuckin’ breathe.”

“Thanks, Jai,” Cassie whispered as she took a seat in the waiting chair in front of a free sink.

“No problem, girl. All of them is goddamn vultures anyway.” She lowered the back of the chair and brought Cassie’s head to the edge of the sink. “Besides the only one who you should be dishing that delicious gossip is your old friend,” she said with a sly smile.

“Gossip? I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about. I know nothing.”

Jai’lisa turned on the faucet. “Cas, you know your eye still does that twitchy thing when you’re lying, right?”

“Okay,” she relented with a sigh. “How about this: I _do_ know something but I ain’t telling nothing.”

Jai’lisa playfully sucked her teeth. “Fine! But I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that Daya did it. Bet my account on that one. That girl always did have a mean streak in her.” Cassie agreed with a slight raise of her right brow and a gentle nod of her head. “Tell me if it’s too hot or cold.” She sprayed some water on Cassie’s head and she jerked in reaction.

“Too cold! _Way_ too cold!”

“Haha. Sorry. How about now?”

Cassie relaxed back in the seat. “Much better.”

Jai’lisa quickly wet the rest of Cassie’s hair before grabbing a bottle of shampoo and massaging it into her head. “So…How’s Hollywood treatin’ you?”

“Girl, there ain’t enough hours in the day for me to go in on fucking Hollywood.”

“What are you talking about? You won all those awards, right?”

“Yep. And they mean exactly dick. I don’t know if you know this but Hollywood is racist as hell. All those accolades and shit and I still never got offered anything more than the ‘sassy black friend who don’t need no man.’ It’s bullshit! If I was white I would have been offered five movies the moment I walked off that damn stage. If I had been a man it would have been twenty.”

“Damn! I didn’t know it was _that_ bad.”

“Yep. It’s a bad, bad business.”

“So is that why you’re back home? You’re done with all the bullshit?”

“No. I came home…,” she exhaled softly. If they were in a more private setting Cassie would have gladly disclosed the last few months to her friend. But there were prying eyes and open ears everywhere. The last thing she wanted or need was more gossip about her spread. (She was still living down the “hoe” comments from her junior high days.) “I came home,” she cautiously started, “because I needed to clear my head. Things got… fucked in L.A. So very, very fucked.”

Jai’lisa nodded that she understood as she squeezed the last of the water out of Cassie’s ringlets before wrapping her head in a towel. She walked Cassie to an open station and finished towel drying her hair. She whirled Cassie around to the mirror and grabbed a pair of scissors off the counter in front of her. “So how much you say you wanted cut off? Just the ends?”

In the past month Cassie had become obsessed with needing a change in her life. Something big and dramatic. What better place to start than with your hair, right? “Shorter.”

Jai’lisa placed the scissors back on the counter then lifted a thick piece of Cassie’s curls. “Just tell me where you want to stop.”

She slowly inched her fingers on her free hand up the outstretched lock. “Shorter.” She moved up another inch. “Shorter.” Jai’lisa’s eyes grew wide the closer her hand got to Cassie’s scalp. “Shorter.”

“Nope! I’m not cutting you bald.”

“How’s that bald?”

“It’s bald for you! Don’t you remember when we were eleven and Billy Davidson put gum in your hair and you cried like a baby because my mama had to cut your hair.”

“First of all, I was a baby then and I never had my hair cut before. Second of all, it grew back. And it will again. Now don’t give me no lip, Jai. Get to cuttin’!”

“‘Get to cuttin’!’ Why you wanna go short anyway?”

“Because I need a change and—”

“Girl, if you that desperate for one you could blow it out straight or press it or…or dye it! Nothing says ‘change’ like purple hair.”

Cassie exhaled an annoyed sigh and rolled her eyes. “Jai, please…”

“Okay. Okay,” she said with her hands up in defeat. She whirled the chair back around so that her friend was now facing her. She draped a purple vinyl cape across Cassie’s chest. “Wastin’ my breath arguing with yo’ stubborn ass anyway,” she said as she reached for the scissors.

“You know I can hear you, right?”

“Yeah, bitch. I ain’t mumble that shit.”

Cassie chuckled at the comment. “Call me ‘bitch’ again and I’m gonna punch you in them big ass titties,” she joked.

“You just mad ‘cause you ain’t got none.” The two continued to joke and chat with one another as Jai’lisa began to cut Cassie’s hair. “So,” she said after a lull in the conversation, “you dating anyone?”

“No,” Cassie casually answered. She expected this question to pop up. Everybody always wanted to know if and who you’re fucking, if it’s good or not, and how detailed you can make your best sexcapade.

“At all? With all that hot ass up in L.A.? And you ain’t dating no damn body?”

Cassie wanted to tell her everything. Preferably over a large glass of wine and a plate of three cheese pizza. “It’s complicated.”

Jai’lisa again nodded her understanding. “You know the best way to uncomplicate something?”

“Drinking?”

“No. Hooking up with someone a little less complicated.”

“You know I don’t do one night stands, Jai.”

“No. I know. I didn’t mean ‘hooking up’ like that. I meant getting out and dating a little.”

“Nope! I’m not in the mood for another relationship so soon.”

“Who said anything about a relationship? I’m talking about a dinner here or a movie there. Maybe hit a club or two. Meeting new people. No commitment.”

“I don’t know…”

Jai’lisa rested her hand on her hips and looked Cassie in her eyes. “Look, you can either sit around and wait for whatever your situation is to uncomplicate itself or you can say ‘Fuck it! I’ma do me!’ and go out and have a little fun.”

Deep down Cassie knew her friend was right. Tom was probably eight inches deep in some random fan right now. Why shouldn’t she at least enjoy a nice dinner with some gorgeous stranger? “I guess you’re right, Jai.”

“I _am_ right.”

“But… I wouldn’t even know where to start. Do I just sit in a bar or something and take the least creepy guy who hits on me up on his offer or…”

“No,” she replied with a chuckle. “I know a couple of cuties that are right up your ally.”

“Ugh! I hate blind dates.”

“They’re a better alternative than your ‘random in the club’ scenario. Besides… Jai got your back. I won’t throw no unworthy motherfuckers your way.”

“She says completely forgetting about that summer we drove to Dallas.”

“Goddamn, girl! Is you ever gonna let that go?”

“Twenty minutes!” Jai’lisa bent over in laughter. “Yeah, _you_ think it’s funny because you and Desi and Amanda ain’t had to put up with stank breath for twenty whole minutes!” Jai’lisa began to laugh even harder now. The sound of it eventually made Cassie join in (as well as a few overhearing patrons).

“All right. All right,” Jai’lisa said after taking a moment to calm her laughter. “I swear on my wife and our unborn child that I won’t screw you over, okay?”

Cassie playfully narrowed her eyes and slowly said, “Okay. But _only_ because you’re putting Tasha and little man on the line. And they better have good hygiene or so help you God, Jai..”

“Chill, Cas. Ai’ight? I told you… I got you. Now stop yelling at me,” she grabbed the brush off the counter and began to sweep the excess hair off the cape tied around Cassie’s neck, “and start praising my genius.” She spun Cassie around to face the large mirror. “What do you think?”

Cassie’s mouth dropped open when she saw her new do. “Oh…my…god…Jai!”

Jai’lisa wasn’t sure how to gage her friend’s response. “Oh my god, please don’t tell me you hate it. I told you it was too short!”

“No! No,” Cassie responded as she rose from the chair and leaned closer to the mirror to get a better look. She ran her fingers through the short mess of curls that now stopped an inch below her jaw line. She smiled broadly as she continued to play in her hair. “I love it!”


	22. Chapter 22

Tom stood at the entrance of his father’s home. He gave a tiny sneeze in response to the mixture of the rain and light November chilly weather before knocking on the door. He looked at the bottle of wine in his hand and sighed when he suddenly remembered his father was a whiskey man. His father would, no doubt, view the quick lapse in memory as a intentional offense. He hunched his shoulders and knocked on the door again. He could give two shits if his father took offense over the bottle of liquor. Especially since he knew the man would drink the entire bottle either way. He was about to knock a third time when the door suddenly flew open.

“Thomas, my dear,” his step-mother, Maggie, exclaimed in a thick Scottish accent as she threw her plump arms around his waist. She stood on her toes and planted a soft kiss on his left cheek before stepping aside and waving him inside. “You’re soaked!”

“Yeah. I got caught in the rain.” He handed her the bottle of wine.

“My! I didn’t think it was going to be that heavy!” She looked past him to the ground outside. The raining had stopped but the ground showed remnants of a quick and heavy downpour. “I sure hope your father can get through all that mud. He still hasn’t gotten new tires. Oh, I’d just die if something happens to him!”

“He’s not here,” Tom asked. He tried to hide his relief. He still hadn’t mentally prepared himself to meet with his father. They agreed to meet for dinner twice a year but for Tom that was still too often. A dinner was never a chance to catch up on lost time. Like with his mother, it was an opportunity to judge and disapprove of his life choices. The quicker he got it over with the better.

“He went to the butchers but he should be back any moment,” Maggie said as she tried to help him with his large coat.

He put his hand up to stop her. “I can do it, Maggie, thank you.” He removed his heavy, rain-soaked coat and hung it on the rack by the door.

“Of course you can, dear! Well…Just have a seat! Your father should be back any minute! Oh, dear! I already said that, didn’t I?” She gave her signature high pitched giggle. Tom winced at the sound of it. After all these years he still hadn’t gotten used to it. “Anyway…Have a seat! Have a seat! A game might be on. Manchester versus United, I think? But the telly doesn’t work as well as it used to. I told James time and time again to fix it but he never seems to get around to it. He’s always busying himself in other ways…”

Tom smiled weakly at his step-mother’s rambling. She could go on all day spewing out whatever random thought popped into her head if someone didn’t stop her. “Maggie, I need to wash my hands.”

“Of course, dear! The toilet's where it’s always been.” She pointed to the corridor and gave him another kiss on the cheek before disappearing into the kitchen.

“Thank you,” he called back to her before entering the hall. He pulled open two doors—one to a linen closet and another to a guest room that looked as if no one had slept there in years—before finally finding the bathroom. He quickly washed and dried his hands before returning to the living room. “Dinner smells delicious, Maggie,” he yelled out at the scent wafting in from the kitchen.

“Thank you dear! You know I’m using fresh leeks and tomatoes from the garden but I had to go into town to get the rest of the ingredients…” As she continued to trail off in conversation, Tom took the opportunity to look around his father’s home.

He glanced around at the pictures on the wall and the tacky knickknacks that sat on the mantel over the chimney. A particular one caught his eye and he walked over to inspect it. It was a glass figurine of an elephant wearing a tutu; its trunk was daintily lifted in the air as both arms flew out from its sides; it stood on one foot as if it was en pointe. Tom carefully picked up the ornament and chuckled in his throat as he gently turned it about so that it could “dance.” _How cute_ , he thought to himself as he returned it to his spot on the mantel. He picked up another one—this one was a pale porcelain dancer—and examined it before returning it as well. He soon got bored with the mini-statues—they were all dancers, human and animal, in various still ballet poses—and walked to the nearby collage of pictures hanging on the wall.

The first one he came upon was of him and his father. He must have been eight or nine in the picture; his father looked like an adult Tom but his face wore a full reddish-colored beard. Young Tom was smiling broadly at the camera. His front teeth were missing; his round cheeks and curly blonde hair made his face look more cherubic than he actually was—he was a proudly mischievous child; and his skin was slightly tanned from spending the entire day in the sun. Tom smiled as he reminisced over that day. It was late summer and his family had spent a holiday in the south of France. They were on a beach and Tom had just finished watching the incoming tide sweep away a sandcastle he and Sarah spent nearly twenty minutes working on. Little Emma was crying because she didn’t get a chance to play with the castle before it washed into the sea. (He made a mental note to mock her about that the next time he saw her.) Sarah had tried to convince him to go swimming in the ocean with her but he was too afraid. They had just watched Jaws on the hotel television the night before—against their parents’ wishes—and Young Tom could still hear the iconic “duna-duna-duna-duna” of the  score. Instead he remained seated by his mother and stuffed himself on sweets.

The memory brought a smile to Tom’s face. He continued to reminisce over the other photos on the wall. Each one had a specific memory tied to them. All of them happy: a snapshot of a performance of a play his sisters wrote when she was ten; a picture of Young Tom’s mouth widely agape as he sung along to some tune while his mother played piano; photo after photo of Easter pictures over the years. Yet the farther down the wall Tom went, the memories the photos brought up became less and less pleasant.

The one in front of him now was taken when he was either ten or eleven. He sat on the steps of some building—Tom couldn’t remember the location exactly—hugging his knees and looking away from the camera. His eyes were intently focused on something off screen and posture was defensive. It was taken during the summer before his father first moved out. Tom remembered that time vividly. His parents fought nonstop. He could remember going to bed countless nights to the sound of their arguing. It played like a harsh lullaby. Even now as an adult he could hear the sound of his father swearing as he accused his mother of not “satisfying him properly”—a statement that, at the time, Young Tom didn’t comprehend—followed by his mother’s loud crying and then the slamming of the front door. Tom tensed his jaw and turned away from the pictures. Some memories were best left buried.

Maggie began to sing loudly along to some song that was playing on the radio. Tom smiled; she always had such a lovely voice. He turned and entered the kitchen. “You know you can take this whole show on the road. The Singing Chef.”

“Oh, Thomas, you humor me.”

“No, Maggie, I’m serious. They should really give you a show. I’d watch it.”

“Stop it,” she said as she covered her round face to hide her blush. “Here,” she handed him a rolling pin. “Put yourself to better use than picking on me.”

“I wasn’t picking, Maggie.” He kissed her temple. “Honestly.” He let out a grunt as she began to roll out the dough on the counter in front of him. “You could have the number one show in the UK.”

She laughed and was about to respond when the front door slammed shut and Tom’s father called out, “Mags! I’m home.”

“I’m in the kitchen, James, with Darling Thomas.”

“‘Darling Thomas,’ eh,” his father said as he entered the room. “Have you been a darling, my boy?”

“He always is,” Maggie answered for Tom. “He’s even helping me cook. Unlike some other darling love of mine.”

“Now, don’t give me that, Mags! I got you the lamb,” he patted the package under his right arm. “You like lamb, Thomas?”

“Sure,” Tom replied while still working on the dough.

“‘Sure?’ That’s not a definitive answer, boy. You like lamb, yes or no?”

“Yes, dad,” Tom said trying to hide his annoyance. “I like lamb.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard now was it? Maggie, my love—Oh!” He grabbed the bottle of wine off the table. “What’s this here?”

“Thomas, brought it.”

“Your Darling Thomas?” Tom ignored the mocking tone in his father’s voice and continued flattening the dough in front of him. “You couldn’t find a nice bottle of Macallan,” he asked as he took down a couple shot glasses from the cabinet over the sink. Tom rolled his eyes and continued focusing on his work. His father tapped the side of his arm with the back of his hand. “Come,” he tilted his head towards the back exit, “have a drink with your old man.”

Tom looked at the shot glasses in his father’s hand. “I’ll wait until dinner, if you don’t mind.”

“I do mind. Your father wants a drink with you, boy.”

“Go ahead, Tom,” Maggie chimed in. “I can finish dinner myself.”

“Maggie, I don’t m—”

“Go,” she sweetly rested her hand on his cheek. “Have a drink with your father.” She gave him a kind smile and Tom returned it before holding open the back door for his father.

The men sat quietly on the terrace; the sounds of the environment filled up the silence between them. The weather was still chilly but not unbearable—it wouldn’t get bad until early or mid-December when it began to snow. Maggie had resumed singing and the two men further reclined in their seats as they basked in the sweet sound of her voice. James threw back a shot of wine then quickly refilled it and repeated his actions. Tom stared at the rich red colored liquid sitting awkwardly in the tiny shot glass in his hand. It looked as uncomfortable and out of place as he was. He took a tiny sip of the liquor and made a face at the flavor. It would taste so much better chilled.

“Not like that! You got to toss it back,” his father said before throwing back another drink.

“Dad… It’s wine.”

“Well, if you had brought me a Macallan…”

“You still would be drinking it wrong.”

“Well, I guess I’m not as well versed in the art of drinking as you, _Darling Thomas._ ”

“I’m pretty sure you’re even more so,” Tom muttered under his breath before finishing the wine.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Tom lied before refilling his glass. He swallowed it whole and cringed again at its taste. He sat the glass down on the stone patio and crossed his legs as he looked out at the beautiful countryside. “It’s lovely here, dad.”

“Eh,” James started. “It’s shit. I miss the city.”

“Then why’d you move here?”

“Because Mags loves the country, don’t you, darling?”

“What was that,” she called from the kitchen window.

“Nothing, dear.” He downed another shot of wine.

Tom shook his head at his father eagerly tossing back the drink like an underage kid at a party. “Dad… You have a liquor cabinet. Why didn’t you just pull out a bottle of vodka if you wanted to do shots so badly?”

“Because my son—my _Darling Thomas—_ bought his father wine for dinner—cheap wine at that!—and it would be rude to not drink it, wouldn’t it.” Tom tensed his jaw at the mocking of his step-mother’s beloved nickname. “Besides… If you wanted me to have a proper drink you would have brought me—”

“The Macallan! Yes, father, I know!”

“You know—”

“Tea, anyone,” Maggie interjected. Thank god for this woman! Tom wasn’t sure what his father was about to say but he knew that whatever it was would send his temper flying. “Earl Grey with a splash of milk for you, Tom, and for James—” He silenced her with a wave of his hand.

“This will be just fine for me, darling,” James said with a lift of his glass of wine.

“Bless you,” Tom said as he took the cup and saucer from the offered tray.

Maggie nodded and smiled sweetly as she picked up Tom’s shot glass from the ground. “Dinner should be done in thirty.” She exited back into the kitchen and the men were alone once more.

The two sat in uncomfortable silence as they drank their respective drinks. Tom’s mind wandered back to the beautiful landscape before him. He wouldn’t mind renting a place out here once or twice a year whenever he needed to get away from his hectic life. He could probably go horseback riding. He hadn’t done that in years. He wondered if he still knew how to. Was horse riding even something you forget how to do or was it like riding a bike?

“So how’s acting?”

His father’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Hmm? What’s that?”

“Acting? You still doing it?” Tom took a sip of his tea and continued to look out into the distance. The sun was finally setting and casted a warm golden glow over the land. He could stay here forever if it wasn’t for one major problem: his father. “Tom! Answer me, boy!”

Tom intentionally took another slow sip of his tea before finally responding, “Yes.” He could see his father’s face reddening with anger. He had to admit it gave him a childish joy being curt with him. “I’m filming the sequel to _Thor_.”

“ _Thor_ … is that the little film you did with the leather suit?”

Tom ignored the “little film” remark and replied, “I don’t know what you mean by ‘leather suit.’”

“You know with the costume!” Tom shook his head and hunched his shoulders in confusion. “With the-the horns!”

“Yes, dad. _Thor_ is the one with horns.”

“Didn’t you just finish making that one?”

“That was _The Avengers_. The character I play, Loki, was the villain in both of them.”

“Ah, I see. So… How’s filming?”

Tom narrowed his eyes. His father has never been interested in his chosen profession. “It’s…it’s good,” he replied cautiously. “Tiring. We’re almost finished filming. I’ll be leaving for Iceland on Friday to film my final scenes then after that,” he exhaled at the thought of his packed schedule for the following year, “after that it’s pretty much nonstop until—wow—until January 2014. But anything’s bound to happen so I could be busy most of that year as well.”

“So you’ll be off _acting_ all next year?”

Tom rolled his eyes at his father’s comment. “I knew it! I knew you didn’t actually give a shit about my work.”

“Well, you have to admit, my boy,” James said with a hearty chuckle, “it’s not real work! It’s just…prancing about on a set or stage. Working with your hands? Now _that’s_ real work!”

“Said the physical chemist! Where do you get off degrading my profession? You know…” He placed his cup and saucer on the ground next to him and rose out of his chair. “The fact you have the nerve to call what I do not ‘real work’ is fucking laughable considering that you’re unemployed!”

“Retired!”

Tom laughed bitterly. “Oh so is _that_ what you’re calling not being able to hold down a steady job? Retirement?”

“How dare you,” his father angrily retorted as she tried to pull himself out of his chair. “How dare you,” he repeated once he was solidly standing on two feet.

“Boys! Boys, please,” Maggie called from the doorway. She greatly lamented encouraging them to talk. It always ended like this: with them yelling until either one or both of them stormed off. She just wanted a peaceful meal—just one—with her husband and step-son. Was that too much to ask for? “Boys, please. Let’s not do this. James, dear, come help me with dinner.” She grabbed her husband’s arm and gently pulled him back inside the house. Tom followed them inside but made a beeline for the bathroom.

Once inside he pulled out his cell and texted his sisters. He sat on the closed lid of the toilet and frowned at the tacky salmon colored wallpaper with talking clams that decorated the walls. He liked Maggie but the woman’s décor tastes were highly questionable. Suddenly his phone buzzed. He looked at the ID and saw his younger sister’s name. He hit the “answer” button. “Em! I’m going to kill him!”

She chuckled into the receiver. “Look, Big Head, if Sarah and I can stand a dinner with the man surely you can as well. It’s just _one_ dinner. A couple of hours. You can do it.”

“I don’t think I can. Not without catching a case.”

“Huh?”

Tom shook his head. He hadn’t realized how many of Cassie’s cute colloquialisms he picked up until he returned to London and was met with countless puzzled faces. “Uh…If I stay here I’ll end up going to jail. Because I am going to kill him.”

“No, you’re not, big brother. You just _think_ you are.”

“Em…he’s only been here twenty minutes and already he’s on my back about the acting thing.”

“I’ll never understand why he hates you acting so much. He doesn’t care that I’m an actress. Weird… Anyway… if he brings it up again just push back. But not literally!”

Tom chuckled. “Okay. I’ll try to at least make it to desert. I think Maggie’s baking a bleberry pie.”

“Yum! Bring me a plate, please!”

“I make no promises, love. You know how much I love Maggie’s sweets.”

“Try to at least save some for everyone else. A bite at least.”

“Again…no promises.” Emma laughed and wished her brother good luck before ending the call. Tom took another couple of minutes to calm himself. His temper was still high and he wasn’t sure what he would say or do if he didn’t take a moment. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the tacky wallpaper. When he did Cassie’s face immediately appeared. She didn’t speak; she only smiled warmly at him. Finally his mind conjured an image of her that didn’t seek to torture him. Rather, the memory didn’t torture him as they had previously done. Now the pain came from knowing that couldn’t reach out and wrap his arms around her petite frame and meld into her warmth. A knock at the door snapped him back to the present.

“Thomas? Are you okay?”

“Yes, Maggie. I’m fine. I just… I need a minute or two.”

“Dinner’ll be waiting when you come out.”

Tom thanked her before turning on the faucet and splashing a few handfuls of cold water on his face. He patted his face dry with a nearby towel and gave himself one last mental reassurance before exiting the bathroom and heading to the dining area. His father and step-mother were already seated. He took a seat across from his father and inhaled the delicious savor of the meal as he grabbed a roll and took a bite of it. Maggie slapped the bread out of his hand. “Thomas! You know we say our prayers first.” Tom gave a muffled apology and swallowed before locking hands with his parents across the table. His father then said a short and slightly indecipherable—due to the alcohol—prayer. “Now you may eat.”

Tom filled his waiting bowl with the lamb broth. He took an extra roll, just in case, and blew on a spoonful of the meal before swallowing it with an “mmm.” “Absolutely delicious, Maggie.” She blushed and thanked him before filling her own plate; his father followed suit.

The trio ate in silence for a few moments before Maggie decided to break the silence. “So, my Darling Thomas, I finally watched that movie you were in. Oh, dear me, what’s the name of it? It has that beautiful woman in it.”

“That doesn’t narrow it down, dear,” he said with a smile.

“Oh, you’re right. I suppose it doesn’t. The one with the dark hair? You played her rakish young lover.”

“Oh! _The Deep Blue Sea_!”

“Yes, darling, that’s it!”

“Did you enjoy it, Maggie?”

“Very much so. Although your behavior very much made me want to scold you.” They both laughed at the comment.

“Don’t encourage the boy, Mags,” James chimed in. The smile fell from Tom and Maggie’s faces.

“Please don’t, James…”

“Don’t what? Be disappointed in my only son? You’re thirty one years late for that, love.”

Tom looked at the time on his watch. “Ten minutes! That’s actually pretty good time for you, old man. I was sure you’d start up again the moment I sat down. Your restraint is commendable. Truly.”

“Thomas, please,” Maggie said. Her head was already beginning to ache.

“Don’t you sass me, Thomas,” his father yelled.

“Oh, I see. I’m supposed to just sit here and take any abuse you hurl towards me without comment?”

“‘Abuse?’ No wonder you’re an actor! You always did have a flair for the dramatics.”

“If I am dramatic it’s because nothing I ever do is good enough for you! No matter what I do you’ll always be upset that I didn’t follow in your footsteps.”

“That’s not true! I just want you to have a stable career! But you were always fond of talking the easy way out.”

“Easy—I chose to do what I love!”

“Boys! Boys! Enough,” Maggie called out but the men refused to hear her.

“And why is it that what you love always requires the least amount of work? With all your intelligence you decide to repeat words that better men have already written! You’re worse than a lazy man! You’re a mimic! So forgive me if I can’t accept that.”

“And you,” Tom said slowly, “were always a self-righteous taint, father.”

“Thomas,” Maggie gasped.

“What did you call me, boy? I’m your father! You best show me respect!”

“Why? What have you _ever_ done that deserves respect? You’re a lush and a liar and a cheat. You complain about my work but at least I can hold down a job! When was the last time a university contacted you for a position? Hmm? I’m not surprised no one wants to hire the pathetic asshole who nearly blew up a lab. At least when people hear the name Tom Hiddleston it incites excitement. When they hear yours they think about the million of pounds that went to fixing your mistake.” James sat with his mouth slightly agape; his eyes full of offense and growing anger. Maggie had her hand over her mouth as she intently eyed her husband. Surely these men were going to kill each other. Tom sat back in his chair and sipped on his glass of wine. Maybe his sister _shouldn’t_ have told him to push back.

“You ungrateful little shit,” James said through clenched teeth. “Everything I’ve ever done was for you and your sisters and you thank me by throwing my _one_ wrong in my face!”

“‘One?’ So repeatedly cheating on my mother with any curious undergrad wasn’t a wrong?”

“Of course you would bring that up! We were going through a difficult time!”

“That _you_ caused! Don’t try to do that thing where you try to talk me down, father. Please don’t! I was there! I heard the conversations!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about! Your mother and I had many difficulties that you know nothing about!”

“I’m not talking about the conversations with mother!” James furrowed his brow in confusion signaling for Tom to further explain himself. “Amelia Girard. Remember her? The student who so bad at chemistry that she needed extra hours of tutoring?”

“Son, I—”

“She called one day and we must’ve answered the phone at the same time because I heard her say some pretty…interesting things to you. But what was even more astounding was _your_ responses. You even brought her to the house once. I remember because she pinched my cheeks and told me I was cute before going into your study with you. You locked the door. You’ve never done that before.” Tom tried to swallow the hurt in his voice. He took a sip of wine before clearing his throat.

“Thomas—”

“Sarah knew, too. She actually saw you.” James looked at Maggie who had her face turned from him. He turned back to his son and started to speak again but Tom wouldn’t let him. “That’s why she stopped talking to you. Why she didn’t invite you to her wedding. Why she won’t let you near her kids.”

“If you would just let me explain—”

“Why? What’s left to say? You destroyed us! Mum pretty much hates me because of you! Ever since the moment you left all I’ve _ever_ heard was, ‘You’re just like your father.’ No matter what I said or did—even to this day!—‘You’re just like your father!’ I’ve tried my damndest _not_ to become you! To not be cruel and selfish and hurt everyone around me!” Instantly memories of his fight with Cassie flooded his mind as well as Geneva spitefully telling him they were the same. “Oh my god…” He felt his stomach churn and exhaled a bitter laugh. “Mum was right. No matter how hard I tried not to repeat your fucked up wrongs… I-I just kept doing it anyway. I _am_ you.” He felt tears sting his eyes at the painful realization. He blinked them away. “Congratulate me, father. I truly am your son,” he nearly choked on the words as he said them.

“Tom,” Maggie said as she rose and placed a gentle hand on his arm.

“I… I should go.” He gave her a sweet kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for dinner. It was delicious.” He grabbed his coat from the rack and stormed out of the house.

\--------------

Tom laid on the carpet floor of Emma’s loft. After the fight with his father Emma had called him saying, “Oh my god, Tom! What the hell did you say to Dad? He’s very upset. He hasn’t stopped calling me!” Tom was in no mood to relay the recent events. He just wanted to return home and sleep the rest of the evening away. “No, big brother. Pop by for a chat. I won’t see you before you leave this weekend. We’ll have a few drinks. It’ll be fun!” Tom debated it for a few moments before finally agreeing to visit her. Being around family he actually liked might do him a bit of good.

When he arrived he was pleased to find that Sarah was there as well. He gleefully embraced his big sister and planted a peck on her forehead before doing the same to Emma. “I’ve missed you guys.”

“You just saw me a week ago,” Emma responded as she playfully pushed her older brother away from her.

“Yeah, and we Skyped just last night,” Sarah said with a shake of her head as she took a seat on her sister’s old couch.

“Still,” Tom replied with a smile. “It always feels like months or years longer when I don’t talk to you guys. Why is that?”

“Because we’re amazing and we make your dingy little life seem shiny and new,” Emma joked as she opened three bottles of beers. The group laughed at the comment but for Tom the statement was true. Being around his sisters—the only family who expected nothing out of him but his own happiness—was more comforting than he had ever found in prayer or in the solace of other company. Well, except for when he was with Cassie. She, too, wanted nothing from him but love and he couldn’t give it to her. Just like he couldn’t give it to Briony or Kat or any other woman that would come into his life.

“So what happened with James,” Sarah asked once they were all situated—Emma sat on her bed and Tom stretched out beside her on the floor. “Did you finally give him one? Right in that lying mouth of his I hope.” As much as Tom thought he hated his father, he could never despise the man as much as Sarah.

“I don’t know,” Tom said. “He just… came at me like he normally does and I took your advice,” he looked at Emma, “and I pushed back.”

“Apparently so,” Emma said before taking a sip of her beer. “But what exactly did you say?”

Tom sighed heavily and scratched at the label on the bottle. “Everything.”

“‘Everything,’” Sarah repeated.

“Every-fucking-thing. I brought up the lab fire.”

“Ooh! That had to have hurt him!” Sarah nearly bounced with glee on the couch as her brother spoke. “What else did you say?”

“I called him a liar and a cheat. Oh! And a drunkard as well!”

“Damn,” Emma said with a chuckle. “No wonder he was so upset.”

“There’s more. He basically called me an ungrateful twat who liked to unfairly bring up old shit.”

“Of course he’d play the victim,” Sarah replied with a roll of her eyes.

“And what did you say,” Emma asked as she reclined across the bed on her stomach and crossed her legs at the ankle.

“I said everything. I called him selfish and brought up his hatred of fidelity. Then just to add an extra nail to the coffin I brought up Amelia.” He locked eyes with Sarah and saw the pain the name of his father’s old lover incited. “Sorry.” She waved her hand and shook her head before taking another swallow of her beer.

“Who’s Amelia,” Emma asked as she absentmindedly fingered the opening of her bottle of beer.

“No one,” Sarah quickly said.

“But—”

Tom grabbed his baby sister’s face and kissed her left cheek. “Trust me, darling. You don’t want to know.” Emma nodded her head and looked away. Tom knew that she wouldn’t let it go—she’s been a curious being since birth—but he didn’t want to be the one to tell her. She would have to find out on her own. Emma’s young age thankfully prevented her from knowing the sordid details of their parent’s divorce. She never had to know what it was like to meet Amelia or Catherine or Dinah or the countless nameless others. She would never have to remember hearing their mother crying to her sister or friend on the phone about their father not coming home—again. She would never have to remember the snide, salacious comments from so-called friends regarding their father’s trysts.

“So what happened after that,” Sarah asked.

“I left.”

“Wait…he didn’t at least…curse you or anything,” Emma asked in disbelief. Tom shook his head. “Wow.”

“Yeah. You left the old bastard stupefied,” Sarah said with a broad smile plastered on her face. “You’re my hero, Thomas.” She laughed but Tom didn’t join her. His thoughts were still on the dinner and more importantly on the horrible realization that, no matter what he did, he had become his father. “Tom?” Sarah rose from the couch and sat next to her sister on the bed. “You all right, dear?” Tom shook his head and the tears that threatened to shed earlier finally fell. “Tom, what’s the matter?” He didn’t respond; he only buried his face in his hands and continued crying.

“No, no, no, Big Head,” Emma cooed as she sat upright on her bed. “Don’t cry. Talk to us.”

Tom sniffed and wiped his tears away with his thumbs before simply saying, “I’m him.”

“What do you mean? You’re who,” Sarah asked.

“Dad. I’m him.”

“Oh, no you’re not! You might look like the man but you are _far_ away from that asshole as can be.”

“No, Sarah. I _am_ him. Trust me I don’t want to admit it any more than you do but—”

“Tom, James is a selfish, cheating asshole who only loves himself. That’s not who you are.”

Tom exhaled a wry chuckle. “Well I might not be a cheater but I’m very much selfish.” He paused and looked out the window at the London nightline. “And I can’t love anyone. No matter how hard I try.”

Emma moved next to him on the floor. “Is this about Briony and Kat?”

“No. Well…kind of. But not _just_ them. It’s about me never being able to connect to someone past the tip of my cock.”

“That’s not true, big brother. You love us.”

“You’re my sisters. That’s different, okay? You have to love family.”

“No, you do not,” Sarah replied. “Where is all of this even coming from?”

“I realized something tonight. Something I think I’ve always known but was too afraid to admit.”

“That you think you’re dad,” Emma finished for him.

Tom nodded in response. “I’ve always been afraid that I’ll be him. That one day mum’s threats would come true and that I’ll be just like him. And then I realize almost twenty years too late that I’ve always been him. That’s why I push people away or run from them. I couldn’t love Briony or Kat or…” Cassie’s name hung in his throat. “I couldn’t love them in the way they wanted because…”

“Because,” Sarah coaxed.

“Because I’m incapable of it.” He sniffled and could feel fresh set of tears threatening to fall.

“Oh, my dear, sweet baby brother.” She sat next to him on the floor and gently placed his head on her shoulder. Emma rested her head on his left shoulder and entwined her fingers in his. “Listen to me very closely. You are _nothing_ like that man. You _are_ capable of love. You just have to let yourself _be_ in it. You want to know what I think?” Tom nodded. “I think that you run away from people you care about because you’re afraid of hurting them the way James hurt mum. But that’s no way to live, Tommy. You’ll only end up old and alone because you let your fears decide what your heart should.”

“Yeah,” Emma agreed. “One day you’re going to find the right girl. The one that you can’t help but want to fight for. And when you do, you won’t repeat the same mistakes.” Tom laughed bitterly at his sister’s comment. “What’s so funny?”

“I already met her. The right girl. I met her and I pushed her away. No, not just pushed. I made sure she _hated_ me. So what was that you were saying about me not being like father?”

“How’d you push her away,” Sarah questioned.

“What?”

“How did you push her away,” she repeated. “Did you cheat on her, Thomas, with any and every woman that looked your way? Did you make spiteful comments to her constantly until she nearly hated everything about herself? Did you use her for her connections until you didn’t have use of her or them anymore?”

“Of course not.”

“Then you’re not James. This girl… did she love you?”

“She did. Immensely.”

“And did you love her?”

Tom hesitated responding. His fear that had become as second nature to him as breathing crept back up. It made his chest tighten; his breathing fell short. But there was nowhere to run now. And no one to run from. If he couldn’t admit it here with the two people he trusted most in the world then he would never be able to overcome this fear. He’ll always be emotionally stunted and, therefore, alone if he didn’t admit the truth. “Yes,” he finally said. “I love her so much that it hurts. I can’t stop thinking about her. I would give everything just to spend one minute in her presence.” The words fell out of his mouth as easy as water slipping through fingers.

“Then stop being a fucking coward, little brother. I mean, aren’t you tired by now of always running because of some unfounded fear?”

He _was_ tired. Exhausted even. “But what can I do? I let her go. She’s probably already moved on.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Emma chimed in. “Oh! Wouldn’t it be so romantic if she’s somewhere thinking about you? I say you go get her. You find out where she is, run up to her and say—what’s her name?”

“Cassie.”

“‘Cassie, my darling! I love you! I was a fool! I love you, I love you, I love you!’”

Tom and Sarah couldn’t help but laugh at their young sibling. “Emma, don’t you think that’s going a little…overboard on the dramatics,” Sarah asked barely holding in her chuckle.

“Not at all! The way I see it… subtly has worked against him. If you want her back you have to go big!”

“Em, haven’t you been listening,” Tom asked. “I can go as big as I want but…she’s not going to take me back. It’s too little, too late.”

“Oh, my dear Big Head,” Emma gently patted her brother’s knee, “it’s never too late when it comes to love.”


	23. Chapter 23

Cassie stood in the full length mirror of her bedroom. She turned left then right as she inspected her outfit. Royal blue loose fitting blouse with a pair of white pants. She looked nice but not overly so. She wanted to make a good first impression without coming off as desperate. She gave herself one final once over of her make up. The red lipstick she chose made her full lips stand out even more so. She grabbed her purse off the bed and dug out her make up bag. She removed a tube of clear lip gloss and rolled a layer on her lips. She rubbed her lips together then pulled them apart with a smacking sound. She dabbed the excess away with her fingertips. She wiped the gloss on her fingers off on the large towel she dropped on the floor after her shower.

She ran her hands through her new short hair cut as she gave herself one last look in the mirror. “Damn, Cas! Girl, you look so fine,” she said before blowing a kiss to herself. She turned to the side. “Damn, girl! Yo ass is hella fat, too! You’ve been working out?” She gave her ass a quick pat and giggled when it bounced. “I look too damn good for a Wednesday night.” The guy Jai’lisa set her up with was very busy and tonight was the only time he had off. It didn’t matter, though, whether the date was mid-week or on the weekend. It was only a test date. Nothing serious. Just dinner and drinks. She wasn’t looking for a new boyfriend just someone nice enough to help her dip her toe back into the dating pool. At least that’s what she kept telling herself.

The more Jai’lisa told her about Trevor the more excited she became about the date. He was thirty one and, from what she could tell by his Facebook picture, very handsome. He was a young doctor so he was always very busy. Plus he had a small child and any free time, of course, was spent with him. He was a widower but Cassie didn’t know the details of how he lost his wife and she was sure that wasn’t proper first date conversation. She also knew he was a born-again Christian but Jai’lisa assured her that he wouldn’t try to convert her. Cassie still had nightmares from the last time she was set up with a freshly born-again date. He spent twenty minutes praying over his salad and then admonished her for ordering a glass of wine because it was “a gateway drink to harder liquors and spirits” and that “the devil can get into you through them and led you further down the path of unrighteousness.” The date didn’t last longer after that.

“I don’t know why I still let that girl fix me up,” she mumbled to herself as she continued to check herself out. She blew another kiss to herself and added a wink for emphasis.

“What are you doing,” Luke asked from her door frame.

She jumped at her cousin’s voice. She put a hand on her chest and could feel her heart beating faster. “Luke! You ass! You scared me! How long have you been there?”

“Since you were like, ‘Damn, Cassie! Look at all this here booty meat. I’m so sexy. Make me wanna jump back and kiss myself,’” he said in a high pitched voice before breaking into a laughter.

“I don’t sound like that! And get out!” She grabbed a pillow from her bed and threw it at him. He laughed again and quickly ducked out of the way causing the pillow to land against the hall wall. She picked it up and tossed it back into her room before closing the door. “What are you even doing here anyway? I thought you were working.”

“Rashida suggested—shit _demanded_ —I take a few nights off. All that overtime was killing me. So I decided to drop by and see how the work on the house is coming along.” It had been almost a week since Cassie purchased her new family home and she had already moved it to help her uncle take care of some of the surface renovations—painting, removing wallpaper, pulling up the carpet in her bedroom. She was still searching for reasonably priced contractors that could take care of any of the major work—reinstalling doors and windows, putting in new light fixtures, retiling the bathroom. Plus she still hadn’t checked out the company her grandmother’s friend referenced to work on the back yard. “It’s looking good.”

“Thanks,” she said with a proud smile. “You should have seen how horrible these walls looked before we repainted them.”

“I saw. Dad showed me pictures. It was kind of depressing, wasn’t it?”

“‘Kind of’? Bruh, I felt like Wednesday Addams every time I entered this place.”

Luke chuckled at her joke. “So, who’s this guy you’re going out with?”

Cassie shrugged her shoulders. “Some dude Jai’s setting me up with.”

“Jai,” Luke asked with a frown. “You’re letting _her_ play matchmaker?”

“I still don’t understand what your problem is with her.”

“She’s a bad influence.”

“What,” she asked with a loud cackle that bounced off the bare hall walls. “Desiree and me were worse influences on her and you know it! Oh…,” she smirked and folded her arms across her chest, “I know what this is about. You’re still mad she shut you down all those years ago.”

“What?”

“Yep. You asked her out. Mr.-Tall-Fine-and-I-Gets-All-The-Girls asked her out and she said no and your little ego got hurt.”

“That was years ago. I’m over that.”

“Nah…I think you still a little wounded, brother.”

“Whatever, cuz.”

“‘Whatever, cuz,’” she mocked. “How petty are you, Luke?”

“I’m not being petty! I just don’t understand how she could turn all of this down. That’s all I’m saying.”

Cassie laughed loudly again. “Luke, listen to me very carefully. The girl was a lesbian when you asked her out! Your greatest game wasn’t gonna work on her.”

“Ya know she was the first girl to ever turn me down?” He shook his head and jokingly added, “You never forget your first.”

“Oh my god. You are a mess.” She pushed past him and walked to the door that led to the garage entrance. “How long are you staying?”

“As long as dad needs me. He left to get some paint and when he comes back we’re gonna finish as much of the living room as we can.”

“Okay.” She stood on her toes and pecked a kiss on his cheek before entering her car.

“When did you get this?”

“Monday. Pre-owned. Didn’t set me back much.”

“It’s nice. I might have to test drive it.”

Cassie laughed as she started the engine. “I better not see your tall ass in my little blueberry. I’ll fight you.”

He smiled and put his hands up in protest. “Have fun on your date.”

“I’ll try. Don’t stay out here too long. You know Rashida doesn’t like to be left alone. Especially at night.”

“I won’t. I’ll be a couple hours. Tops.” He waved her bye as she pulled off the lot and turned down the street. “Shit, I wonder if they got any food in this house. Brother’s starving like a motherfucker.” He rubbed his stomach and walked back into the house.

\------

Cassie at the entrance of the restaurant and surveyed the crowd of patrons. She exhaled a frustrated sigh when she couldn’t spot him. She hoped he was still there. She had gotten stuck in traffic and was fifteen minutes late. She didn’t have his number so she couldn’t call him and Jai’lisa wasn’t answering her phone either. She could kick herself for not leaving the house sooner. “Can I help you, ma’am,” the hostess asked.

“Yes. I’m supposed to meet someone here. Trevor…uh, Trevor…” Shit! She couldn’t remember his last name. That wasn’t a good sign. “Sorry. It’s a blind date and I don’t remember his last name. But, um, he’s a black guy and he’s supposed to be wearing a red rose on his shirt or jacket or whatever.”

“I think I know who you’re talking about, ma’am. Follow me.”

The hostess led her to the table where Trevor was patiently sitting. When he saw her he smile broadly and stood. “You must be Cassie,” he said as he outstretched his hand for a shake.

 _Wow_ , she thought _, his Facebook did_ not _do him justice. He’s fucking hot! Good looking out, Jai!_ “Yes, I am.” She shook his hand and took the seat across from him.

“We’re kind of busy tonight,” the hostess chimed in, “so it might be a while before your waiter gets to you. But I can take your drink orders for you right now.”

“I’ll have a glass of water with lemon,” Cassie ordered. “Thanks.”

“And a sweet tea for me, please,” Trevor said.

“Okay. I’ll have that right out for you with an order of breadsticks.” The hostess turned and headed towards the kitchen.

“I’m so sorry I kept you waiting,” Cassie apologized. “I left the house late and then traffic was a nightmare! I-I know that sounds like an excuse but it’s the truth.”

“Don’t worry. I only got here a few minutes ago myself. My son refused to go to bed until I tucked him in and read to him.”

“How old is your son?”

“He just turned four. Would you like to see a picture of him?”

“I would.” Trevor leaned over, reached into his back pocket, and pulled out his wallet. He opened it and pulled out a picture and handed it to him. “Oh my god he’s adorable! He looks just like you!”

“Well, he has his mother’s eyes.”

Cassie could detect a hint of sadness in his voice as he spoke. “How long has it been?”

“Since I lost Ashanti? Um…wow… Almost three years. Sometimes…it feels longer; other times… it feels like just yesterday. But the worst part of it is that Tahj—that’s my son—he’ll never get the chance to know her.” Cassie handed him back the photo and he sullenly stuffed it back into his wallet.

“I’m so sorry. I mean, I, of course, never met her but… I can tell you loved her a lot.”

“I did. Do you believe in love at first sight?”

Cassie lightly shook her head and hunched her shoulders. “Maybe…”

“Well, I do. And the moment I saw Ashanti I knew I was gonna marry her. I even told her that.”

“Wow. And how that work out for you?”

“She, uh, she called me a creeper and walked away from me.”

“Yeah. Came on a little strong there, didn’t you,” she joked.

“Just a tad, yeah,” he laughed and Cassie joined him in it.

“But y’all eventually married, though. So you couldn’t have put her off too much.”

“Well, that was thanks to Jai. She might have put in a good word or two for me.”

“Yeah, she’s really good at the hard sell.”

“She really is because whatever she told Ashanti made her eventually agree to go on a date with me. And then six months later we were married.”

“Wow! Six months?”

“Yep. Then a couple years later we had Tahj and not too long after that she was gone.” They sat quietly for a moment. Trevor was obviously still lost in his grief over his wife and Cassie didn’t know what else to say. There were no words she could offer to comfort him. She remembered losing her parents so young and any offered condolences worsened the pain. Even now, nearly twenty years later, she still felt a pang in her chest when she thought of them. That type of pain couldn’t ever be fully diminished. Not with years of crying or with soft words or faces full of pity. In spite of this knowledge, however, her heart still felt for him so she just reached across the table and held his hand.

He looked up at her and smiled then placed his other hand on top of hers. He began to gently run his thumb over her knuckles. The innocent gesture caused a quick memory to flash in her mind. She saw Tom sitting across from her at some café in L.A. It was right after her fight with Daya. He held her hand like Trevor was now. She knew that it was an act of comfort but there was also something very intimate about it. “You’re not a dud,” he had told her, “or just some girl. You mean more to me than that.” When he said those words she brushed them off with a laugh but, in truth, they had hit her heart as hard as punches. She was already crushing on him like some lovesick teenager and those words didn’t help her any. She wanted to kiss him; to hold him; to make love to him. _Oh god no._ This isn’t what she was supposed to be thinking about. The whole purpose of this date was to take her mind _off_ Tom.

She quickly freed her hands from between Trevor’s and placed them in her lap. “We-we, uh,” she cleared her throat, “we should order.” Her hands trembled as she picked up her menu and opened it. She looked over the items but didn’t register the names, ingredients, or prices.

Trevor thought her behavior was odd and figured he must’ve upset her in some way. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

A feeling of guilt washed over her. She closed her menu and replaced it on the edge of the table. “No, Trevor, you’re fine. It’s…,” she sighed, “it’s me. I’m sorry. I-It’s just… just…”

“It’s your ex?”

She exhaled a wry laugh. “Jai told you, huh?”

“Not the details. But she said you just got out of a relationship. She said it was complicated.”

“Yeah… and getting even more so every day.”

Trevor gently nodded his head in understanding. “Cassie, you know, we don’t have to do this right now.”

“What?”

“The dinner. It’s obvious we’re both still in mourning.”

“‘Mourning.’ I never would have described it like that and yet I can’t think of a more fitting word.”

“Here we are,” the hostess from earlier chirped. “Water with lemon for you,” she placed a cold, filled glass in front of Cassie, “and sweet tea for you,” she placed a glass in front of Trevor. “Plus, the breadsticks I promised.” They both thanked her. “No problem. Can I get y’all anything else while y’all wait?”

“Cassie, you want anything?” She wanted to order half the bar but she had made a promise to her family and herself to ease up on the drinking. She shook her head no before taking a sip of her water. “We’re good. Thank you,” Trevor told the hostess.

“Okay. Your server, Mark, will be around shortly to take your order,” she said with a weary smile before heading back to her podium at the entrance.

“I didn’t mean to offend you with that mourning comment. I mean, I know nothing about your relationship and I sh—”

“It’s okay. Let’s just… not talk anymore about exes. That’s a surefire way to ruin a evening.”

“You’re right.” He opened his menu and scanned it. “Let’s talk about these ridiculous ass prices instead.”

Cassie laughed reopened her menu. “The prices are a little steep but the food looks delicious though.”

“What if the tiny pictures are actual size?”

“Then I am gonna fight someone.” They shared a short laugh before their waiter finally came.

“Hello, I’m Mark and I’ll be your server. What can I get you for this evening?”

Cassie quickly skimmed the menu and ordered the cheapest item: a grilled chicken dish. She guessed she was probably going to stop by a fast food joint on the way home to fill herself up. Trevor ordered a seafood platter and grumbled when he couldn’t get an extra order of shrimp. “The best part about the damn sea,” he joked. They continued to make small talk as they waited for their order. She learned that he was the middle of three boys and that he was the only doctor out of the trio—the other two were lawyers. He attended John Hopkins University on scholarship and graduated at the top of his class. He was currently on the medical advisory board of Shriners Hospital. “I’m hoping to open my own practice one day. You know, something affordable for families that don’t want to sell a limb to pay for a checkup.”

“Wow… That’s really admirable.”

“It’s not that impressive.”

“No, it is. It really is. I’m… kind of at a lost for words actually.”

“Don’t be. I really hate bringing that shit up because it makes me feel like I’m bragging.”

“Well it’s brag worthy, so…”

“No. Listen, my older brother, Darren, all he does is brag. He’s always going on and on about how he graduated summa cum laude from Harvard and now he’s _this_ close to making partner at whatever-the-hell the name of that firm is in New York. And he _never_ shuts up about New York! I could ask him, ‘Hey, how’s…how’s that breadstick you’re eating?’ ‘It’s fine! But the ones in New York are better because New York!’” Cassie nearly fell out of her chair laughing. “I’m serious! Every Christmas I want to buy something with the words ‘New York’ on it and then strangle him with it! It would be the sweetest irony.”

Cassie laughed even harder. “Oh man,” she took a sip of water to calm herself, “it’s the same way in L.A. Well, Cali in general. They would always brag about how great California is and I would be like, ‘Guys, I’m already here. Chill.’”

“Right? It’s ridiculous!”

“Order’s up,” the server said. He placed their respective orders in front of them. “Can I get y’all anything else?”

“Hot sauce and a refill of water for me please,” Cassie said.

“Same,” Trevor added. “Except tea instead of water. Oh! And more breadsticks! Thanks.” The waiter nodded and quickly left them to see after their requests.

“In my experience,” Cassie opined as she resumed their earlier conversation, “people from New York, Cali, and Texas,” she counted the states out on her hand, “are the worst at repping their home state. They will never shut up about it. Ooh! And anyone who studied abroad! They’re in the same boat.”

“Hey! I studied abroad!”

“Oh.” Cassie covered her mouth. “Okay. Then…I guess you’re the exception to the rule then. But _most_ people that study abroad are hella annoying about it. My college roommate Kelli went to France for two weeks over the summer once. And when came back she spoke in a bad French accent for like a month. And then she would say random shit in French and it drove me insane!” The waiter returned and placed a fresh batch of breadsticks in the center of their table before refilling their drinks. They thanked him again and he politely nodded before moving to another table.

“Your roommate sounds like a trip!”

“She was! I can’t even begin to tell you the half of it! We would be here all night if I tried!” They laughed and dug into their dishes. “Ugh.” Cassie opened the bottle of hot sauce and sprinkled it over her chicken.” She took another bite and soured her face again.

“If it’s that bad I can tell them to take it back and cook you another one.”

“No. No, no, no. I never return my plate. I waitressed back in L.A. and I know what they do to returned food. I’ll just…” She pushed the chicken aside and scooped up a bit of the rice. She shook her head as she sprinkled some salt on it and tasted it again. “Ugh. How do you mess up rice?”

Trevor laughed. “Seriously, Cassie. You can order something else. You don’t have to suffer with something you don’t like.”

“Nope. I’m a G, dude. And real G’s don’t let something like bland chicken and rice stop them from eating. Besides I’m really hungry and I don’t think I can survive another wait for a different meal. I’ll just box up whatever I don’t finish and jazz it up at home.”

“Ashanti used to do that. If the food wasn’t up to par she would take it home and ten minutes later it would taste like God himself had cooked it.”

“She was a good cook, huh,” Cassie asked as she absentmindedly took another bite of her food. She shuddered and pushed the meal away from her.

He chuckled at her reaction. “She was great. She better had been. She was a chef after all.”

“Well, apparently so are the people working in the kitchen here but you can’t tell by this shit.”

He took a bite of his shrimp and immediately spat it back into his napkin. “Yeah. This shouldn’t even qualify as food. I’m not paying for this.” He signaled for the waiter who nodded then returned his focus to the table in front of him. “I don’t think they cleaned that shrimp.” He scrubbed his tongue with the clean part of his napkin before gulping down some of his tea. Cassie took another bite of her rice and frowned again. “What are you doing? Don’t keep eating it!”

“Sorry! Sorry! I’m so hungry. My head is saying, ‘Fool, forget it,’ but my hunger is saying, ‘Don’t let go.’”

Trevor furrowed his brow and his eyes darted left then right as he thought. “Why does that sound familiar?”

“Um…because it’s from _Grease_. It’s a line in ‘Hopelessly Devoted.’”

“Wow. Really,” he replied with a broad smile.

“Don’t judge me. My hunger is causing me to be delirious.” They both laughed then Trevor signaled for their waiter again.

“You got a little something on your face,” he said when he looked back at Cassie.

“Where?”

“On the side of your mouth there.”

She patted her face with her hand. “Did I get it?”

“Kinda. Now it’s on your cheek.” She groaned in embarrassment and tried to clean her face again. “No still there. Here let me get it.” She leaned over and he cupped her chin with one hand and wiped the excess food away with her napkin. “There. All gone,” he smiled and, for the first time that evening, he looked intently into her eyes. “Wow. I didn’t notice it before but… your eyes are… breathtaking.”

Cassie gently removed his hand away from her face and looked back down at her hands. “Thank you.”

Trevor sat back in his seat. “I’m sorry. I swear I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. I—”

“No. It’s not you. You’re good. It’s just… my ex.” Trevor nodded. “Yeah… he would… he would say things like that to me. He’d compliment my eyes and then he’d kiss them—one, then the other. And then, if we were in bed, he’d…he’d wrap his arms around me and lay his face in my curls.” She cleared her throat. “I can’t stop thinking about him. Even when I know I should. I mean, you’re really nice and all and, except for dinner, I had a really nice evening. But I just… I can’t—”

“I understand. Really. It’s the same thing with me. Every time you laugh I hear Ashanti’s. Y’all sound nothing alike but still…” He looked down at his hands then back at her. “I think this would have worked out better if I had met you before Ashanti or maybe even years from now. But right now…”

“Mourning period?”

“Yeah. But… we could be friends. I can always use an extra friend.”

“I’d like that. I am… dangerously low in the friends department right now.”

“Let’s kick this friendship off in high gear.”

“What do you have in mind,” she asked with a raised brow.

“Have you ever dined and dashed?”

“Not since I was a teenager.”

“What do you think would happen if we were to both get up right now and make a break for it?”

“Well… seeing as we’re both black… I’m thinking we’d either get twenty years minimum or… we’d get shot and the patrons would complain about our blood getting in their food.”

“Damn. You’re right.” He looked around for their server. When he spotted him he impatiently flagged him down for the third time. “Waiter!”

\------

Cassie bounced to the mix blaring from her iTunes as she rolled paint onto the wall of the large living room. “Cas,” Luke called out. “Cas!” He tapped her shoulder causing her to jump in surprise; a blotch of paint went flying but thankfully landed on the plenteous old newspapers that covered the ground.

She put the rolling pin down and paused her music before slapping her cousin repeatedly across the arm as she spoke, “How many times do I have to tell you to not sneak up on me?”

“Ow! Ow! Alright. Keep hitting me, Lil Bit, and your red hair gonna be blue!”

She promptly stopped and folded her arms across her chest. “What do you want, Luke?”

“Jamal and them gonna be coming over later to help finish painting and—”

“Jamal?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with him?”

“I can’t stand that dude! He always be up in my face with that stank breath of his. Please tell me the brother has invested in some toothpaste or mouthwash or something since I’ve been gone.”

“Uh… I’ll tell him to steer clear of you, how ‘bout that?”

“It’s a start a guess. But that fool’s breath’s so strong it’ll make the paint run.”

“Stop,” he said as he tried to stifle a chuckle.

“Who is ‘them’?”

“Huh?”

“You said, ‘Jamal and them.’ Who else is coming?”

“Trey, Deuce, Lavarrius, um…, Tay-Tay said he’ll drop by but that won’t be until he get off of work around one.”

“Oh _hell_ naw! You ain’t bringing them fools into this house. I would rather paint this place alone with a strand of hair than have to spend all day with your crew. Nunh-unh! Not gonna happen!”

“Why you always gotta be like that with my friends, Cas? They coming over here on _their_ free time to help your ass! You can at least show a little gratitude. Damn!”

Cassie sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. “Okay. But I swear to God, Luke, if one of them says something to me I don’t like… I’m gonna catch a case. Bet on that shit!”

“They’ll behave! I’ll be here to make sure of that. Plus, Trisha and the twins are gonna be dropping by later and you know I don’t allow no foolishness around my kids.”

“Okay.” She dipped her rolling brush back into the paint. “Hit play on that music for me.”

He was about to tap the spacebar on her laptop but a thought suddenly hit him. “Oh! I almost forgot.” He tapped the pockets on his shirt then on the ones in front of his jeans. “Ma’dear said ol’ boy left a message for you. I can’t remember where I put it though.”

“Ol’ boy?”

“Yeah. You’re friend Charlie.”

It felt as if all her energy had been sucked out of her at the mention of his name. “H-he called? When?”

“Um…” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and dug inside it. “Here it is! I knew I put it somewhere.” He unfolded the paper and read it, “Um, Charles called yesterday around seven. Said he wanted to meet with you. Then he left his new number.” He handed her the paper.

She took it and reread the message in her grandmother’s sprawling handwriting. “Um, o-okay. Thanks.” She tucked the paper into the pocket of her overalls and started rolling the brush into the paint again.

“That’s it? I thought you’d be happier than this. I was sure you would start doing that high pitched scream thing you do when you get good news.”

“Please don’t start. I already had Jai up my ass the last three days about that damn date and I don’t need you to hassle me.”

“I’m not hassling! I was just expecting a different reaction. But if you wanna go with indifference that’s cool. I thought ol’ boy was your best friend but I guess I was wrong.”

“He is! Was… I mean… I don’t know anymore. You know we didn’t leave things good back in L.A.”

“You were in a bad place then, Lil Bit. But you’re much better now.”

“Am I?” She thought back on her failed date with Trevor and her conversation with Jai’lisa about how wrong she was about jumping back onto the dating scene. She couldn’t get Tom out of her head. She guessed it would have been different if the onslaught of memories had incited her anger but they never did. Instead she found herself greatly missing him. Sometimes she’d lie in bed and drift off to sleep on the memory of his cologne or his laugh or that horrible dancing. She wished love came with an “off” switch. She would flick it without a second thought. No. That was a lie. She would still be in the same situation.

“Cas,” Luke softly said as he placed a hand on her shoulder, “you’re doing so well. It might not be the place where you thought you’d be but it’s a helluva lot better than where you were.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Ol’ boy cares about you. If he didn’t he wouldn’t have ever called me. Do yourself a favor and give Charlie a call.”

“I always wanted to but… I don’t know what to say.”

“You can start with, ‘Hello.’”


	24. Chapter 24

Three weeks passed before Cassie called Charlie back. She stared at her phone for hours; her finger hovering in hesitation over the “dial” button. When she finally got up enough courage to press it she quickly ended the call at the sound of the other end ringing. She took a couple deep breaths and dialed the number again. With each ring in her ear, her stomach churned. She wasn’t sure what she would say to him. Luke had told her to start slow with a simple “hello.” _Easy for him to say_ , she thought. He didn’t have anything to lose. Well… neither did she come to think about it. _What’s the worst that could happen? He could curse you out. Say that you used him. That you betrayed his trust. That he risked so much to help you and just turned your back on him for a quick fix that still ain’t did shit…_ She hung up the phone again and tossed it away from her.

“Oh, god,” she said aloud before taking long, slow inhales. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t—” The sound of her phone playing the chorus to Bruno Mars’ “The Lazy Song” cut off her thoughts. She picked up the phone and read the number. Immediately she recognized the ten digits—she had nearly burned them into her memory. It was Charlie.

Cassie felt her chest tighten and her breathing shorten. The phone vibrated as the catchy tune continued to play. Her thumb once again hovered over the “answer” button. Before she could decide whether to hit it or not, the phone stopped ringing. Cassie exhaled a relieved breath. She was about to toss her phone back on the bed when it dinged. Voicemail. Her breathing became shaky again.  

Should she play it? No. No, she shouldn’t. She had to mentally prepare herself to be cursed out. Stress relief. Meditation. All that positive shit. But what if it wasn’t bad? What if he _wasn’t_ calling to tell her where to go to how to get there? What if he just wanted to say hi? Wouldn’t that be nice? She could really use a sweet greeting from an old friend. But what if he wasn’t calling about them at all? How selfish of her! He could be going through a horrible time and only wanted her support. If _that’s_ the case then she just went from a bad friend to a shitty one. Honestly, hasn’t she done enough damage to their relationship? That tightening in her chest returned.

She stood in the middle of her room inhaling and exhaling shaky breaths while staring at her phone. The room felt as if it was spinning. The ground felt as if it would give out at any moment. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted this weird panic to stop. “Cas,” Luke’s voice called from the hall. “Cas? Where you at, girl?” He knocked twice on her door before trying the knob. “You decent? I’m coming in.” When he opened the door he found her standing in the middle of the room with her cell in her hand. Her mouth hung open but she sounded as if she was struggling for air. “Oh my god, Cas!” He grabbed her shoulders. “You alright? Look at me, Lil Bit! Speak to me!”

“Cha… Cha… Cha…”

“What? Breathe, girl! Breathe! Like this.” He took a long, deep inhale then slowly exhaled. She tried to mimic him but failed. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Lil Bit.” He had no idea how to handle this. Wasn’t she supposed to breathe in a paper bag or something? “Come, cuz. Just breathe with me. Please. In like this. Out like that. In like this. Out like that.”  This time she managed to copy him—if only a little. Her breathing was still irregular but much better than before. “That’s it, Lil Bit. In like this. Out like that.”  She again followed his lead until her breathing had finally become normalized. “That’s it. That’s it. You good?” She shook her head. “You wanna tell me what’s wrong?” She nodded and showed him the voicemail notification on her cell. “I don’t get it.”

“Charlie.”

“Oh… You haven’t played it?” She silently replied no. “Do you want me to?”

“Please.”

“Sure, cuz,” he said with a tiny smile. They both sat on the bed. She unlocked her phone then handed it to him. He brought the phone up to his ear and prayed as he waited for the message to play. _Please, God, let it be good…_ Cassie bit her lip as she watched him. She tried to decipher the message by carefully reading his features. However, Luke wasn’t giving her much. Except for a couple of blinks, his face sat as impassive as his father’s. He hit a couple of buttons then handed the phone back to her.

“Well?”

“Play it, cuz. It’s good.” He kissed her forehead then ruffled her curls—another habit he picked up from his father—before rising and heading for the door.

“Wait… That’s it? You’re not gonna tell me what he said?”

“Cas, play it. Trust me.”

She looked back at her phone. She swallowed hard; her hand trembled as her thumb, once again, hovered over the screen. She closed her eyes and took two calming breaths before tapping the voicemail icon and placing the phone to her ear.

\------------

“I miss you,” Charlie’s voice said via his voicemail. Cassie was sitting in her car outside of the restaurant where she had agreed—through text—to meet him. This was the fifth time in the last ten minutes that she replayed his message. “Hey, Cas. I, uh… I know we haven’t spoken much since, ya know, L.A. You’ve been pretty silent on your socials and, uh, I… Shit! I rehearsed this and it’s still hard to get out,” he gave an uneasy laugh. Then after a short pause added, “I don’t know if you know this or not but, uh, um, I’m in town filming this movie. The Spielberg deal went through, by the way,” another uneasy laugh, “and I think… we should… We should meet. Call me back. Please. I miss you.”

“Okay, girl,” she pepped herself, “you’ve known this guy since you were nineteen. There’s nothing to fear. This meeting will go well. Everything will be fine.” She held the handle of the car door but didn’t push it open. “Everything will be fine,” she repeated. “You just gotta get out of the goddamn car first!” She took another minute to replay Charlie’s message then she exited her vehicle and walked to the restaurant entrance.

Cassie saw him the moment she stepped inside. He purposely chose a table in the middle of the establishment so that he could be easily spotted. She took a couple steps forward but each time her foot fell she felt her knees tremble. Charlie rose from his seat. “Cas.” A new panic sunk into her chest. She wanted to run yet her legs were still propelling her forward. Charlie nearly ran towards her. He opened his arms wide and embraced her. “Cas!” Suddenly all the fear and panic she had dissipated under his warm embrace. She curled her arms under his shoulders and pulled him tighter. “I’ve missed you so much,” he said into the top of her curls.

“And I… I…” Her words hung in her throat. Yet this wasn’t due to fear or anxiety rather a different emotion took over her. An emotion so strong that it made her speak in broken sobs, “I’m so sorry, Charlie!” The moment the words came out the tears followed next.

“Shh… Shh… It’s okay, Cas.”

“No! I… I…” Her cries were growing louder causing the other patrons to turn their heads in the direction of the two.

“Shh, Cas. People are watching,” he said as he patted her head. However, she continued sobbing. “Okay. Okay.” He signaled for a waitress. “Excuse me, where’s your bathroom?”

“Straight back and to the right.”

“Thank you. Could you bring us a couple of waters. We’ll just be a minute.” The waitress nodded in compliance but she couldn’t fight a broad smile from growing on her lips at the image before her. With Cassie still wrapped around his torso, Charlie stepped backwards in the direction of the bathroom. “Okay. It’s okay,” he said as he turned into the men’s room.

The bathroom was occupied by a couple men who jumped in surprise at Charlie dragging his friend into the room. “Hey,” one said as he attempted to cover himself, “this is the men’s room!”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.”

“Get her out of here!”

“What’s wrong with you? Can’t you see she’s inconsolable? Besides we’ve all seen a dick before! Chill.” The man swore under his breath and quickly finished urinating. Charlie, however, paid him no further mind. His concern was solely on Cassie. She was still crying into his shirt; a couple of her tears had soaked through. “C’mon, now,” he said as he tried to free himself from viper-like embrace. “C’mon, girl. Shh… Shh… Everything’s okay. Just…” He finally wrestled free of her grip. “Just dry your eyes.” He reached over to the sink and grabbed a few paper towels. He began to gently dab the corners of her eyes.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” she said through hiccups. Her face was still wet with newly shed tears.

“It’s okay. I didn’t know you missed me so much,” he smiled.

“No, it’s not that. I mean, yeah, I did but it’s just—” She examined the environment for the first time. “Are we in the bathroom?”

Charlie laughed so loudly that it echoed off the walls. The sound of it caused the remaining man at the urinal to jump. “I’m sorry, man,” Charlie said before laughing again. Cassie couldn’t resist joining in his mirth. It felt so good to laugh. “Are you fine now,” Charlie asked after their laughter hand calmed down some. She nodded in reply. “Good. Now let’s go have lunch. I know you must be starving.”

“Always,” she replied with a soft smile.

\---------------

Charlie watched Cassie as she forked a large bite of chicken parmesan into her mouth. He shook his head and silently chuckled before taking a sip of his water. When he last saw her she wouldn’t even eat a spoon of soup and now she was back to stuffing her face like the woman he had come to know and love. Cassie gently bounced her head from side to side as she twirled her fork into the pasta on her plate. She was about to shove the entire forkful into her mouth when she looked up and noticed Charlie eyeing her. “You’re not hungry,” she asked.

“I took a nibble.” He showed her his only bite on his cheeseburger.

“What are you L.A. now?”

“Hell no, girl. Texas born and bred right here! I’ll eat a damn cow raw if I could!” Cassie quietly laughed at both his comment and at how his accent suddenly became more pronounced. “I’m just not that hungry right now. I’ll probably save it for later. My hotel likes to charge me eighteen dollars for a single patty burger.”

“Oh, that’s flagrant as hell!”

“Absolutely criminal!” Cassie smiled broadly before taking a bite of her food. Charlie watched her for another minute before saying, “You look good, girl.”

Cassie wiped the corners of her mouth and smiled at the compliment. “Thanks. You do, too.”

“So, uh, how’s Shreveport been treatin’ you?” They hadn’t talked much when they returned from the bathroom earlier. They chatted briefly over what items on the menu looked edible and laughed about Cassie’s crying fit but mostly remained silent. Neither of them knew where to begin. Unsaid explanations and apologies hung in the air causing the atmosphere around them to thicken with awkwardness. When the waitress finally brought their food they both exhaled relieved sighs before digging in. But now the tension had waned slightly enough for their unspoken words to not feel as heavy. Or at least Charlie hoped it had.

“It’s been good. For the most part.”

“What do you mean? Why not all good?”

“Well, uh,” she cleared her throat, “I had a couple of bad run-ins with some bad people.”

“What? Do I need to kill someone for you? You know I will. My hand’s back in working condition.” He made a fist with his left hand. “See?”

“No, that won’t be nec—well… No. No. I don’t want you to go to prison over me. But thank you for being my ride or die though.”

“Anytime, babe. So you’d you run into?” Cassie told him in great detail about her unpleasant encounter with Jamir and the shocking surprise of returning home to find Odessa. “Shit! It’s been a helluva few months for you, huh?”

“The worst in recorded history.”

“I’m so sorry, Cas.”

She waved her hand. “Don’t be. Odessa’s gone for now and Jamir… well fuck him. If there was a God, that fool would be somewhere dying a slow, agonizing death.”

“Hear, hear,” Charlie agreed with a raise of his glass of water.

Cassie smiled as she raised hers and clinked it against his. “But enough about me… What’s it like working with Spielberg? I know you must be dying!”

“Yeah! It’s… amazing! Everyone always hopes they could work with him but you never really think it could happen, ya know? Especially so early in my career. God, I hope this isn’t my peak.”

“Boy, stop. You know it’s nothing but the stars from here. I can already see you twenty years from now being someone else’s Spielberg. ‘Oh my god,’” she put on a high voiced accent, “‘Charles Leonetti wants to work with _me!_ ’” They both laughed. God how Cassie missed this! The easy conversations; the non-stop jokes; the playful teasing. She could kick herself for almost ruining this. The smile on her face faded as a new heaviness grew in her chest. “Charles,” she said softly.

“Uh-oh. Full name. That ain’t good,” he joked.

“No. I… I just want to say I’m sorry.” Her voice began to waiver and she could feel fresh tears begin to sting her eyes.

“Sorry for what, girl?”

“For… everything. Betraying your trust and falling back into my old patterns like I did. I—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! You didn’t betray my trust, Cas. Why would you think that?”

“Because,” her words choked on the way out, “you… I mean I couldn’t…. the drinking and…” a tear fell down her right cheek, “and I just couldn’t deal and I know you hated seeing me like that and—”

“No, no, no.” He rose and sat next to her on her side of the table. He wrapped an arm around her in an attempt to calm her. Yet it only seemed to upset her more. He pulled her closer and leaned her head on his chest. “Shh… shh… Don’t cry, Cas. Please. You know I hate it when you cry.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”

“I know. Shh… Listen… Don’t apologize.”

“No, I have to. You’ve done so much for me and put up with all my bullshit…”

“Cas, that’s what family do. Usually. Besides if anyone should be asking forgiveness it’s me.”

Cassie sniffed and looked up at him. “Why? What did you do wrong?”

“I left you.” She furrowed her brow in confusion signaling for him to further explain. “After you left,” he paused and frowned as he searched for his words, “I… When you never returned my calls I-I just figured… I don’t know. But I _do_ know I should have never stopped trying to reach out to you. I should’ve tried harder.”

She sniffed again and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “You did your best, Charlie. I’m not your responsibility. You don’t owe me shit. You cared for me and done a lot more for me than some of my own blood did. You ain’t have to do any of that but you did.” She grabbed his hand; a tear slid down her cheek again. “You,” she tried to swallow her rising emotions but couldn’t. Her words wavered as they exited. “You saved my life. Twice. And I can never repay you for that. You have been a better friend to me than I’ve _ever_ been to you. I don’t deserve a friend as good as you.”

“You stop that shit. Don’t you _dare_ say that shit to me again. You’re the best person I know. I love you, Cas. You’re the only family I got left. All I want is for you to be healthy and happy.” He wiped her tears away with his thumb. “Now goddammit stop crying! I swear if you make me start bawling in this restaurant I’ll never forgive you.” Cassie smiled but a part of her still wanted to apologize. That persistent guilt inside her wouldn’t rest but for now she ignored it. She just wanted to bask in the joy of having her friend back. Also, she figured she had embarrassed herself enough for one day. She didn’t need to go into _another_ crying fit.

“There,” Charlie said once he wiped away the last of her tears. “Better?” She nodded in response. “Good.” He kissed her on the forehead before returning to his side of the table. “So… you look good.”

“You already said that,” she chuckled.

“I know. It bears repeating. I haven’t seen you this healthy since…”

“Since before we went to L.A.”

“You did get very thin.”

“They like that shit over there. Meanwhile I felt like I was twelve again.” She shuddered and it made him smile. “That was not a good time.”

“I know. I’ve seen the pictures.” She balled up a napkin and threw it at him. He caught it and tossed it back. He laughed when the paper hit her right in the chest. She dramatically placed a hand on her forehead and pretended to be greatly wounded by the hit. She slumped over onto the table and made a loud gagging noise. “That’s the worst death I’ve ever seen. I thought you were a better actress than that!”

“You know I’m more of a writer than actress.”

“Speaking of which how’s that coming along?”

Cassie shrugged as she stuffed her mouth with another large bite of her lunch. She swallowed then answered, “I wrote a little here and there but nothing much is coming from it. It’s mostly ideas and shit.”

“But at least you’re writing though! That’s a great start!”

“Eh. I would be better if I could actually fucking finish an idea, ya know?”

He nodded that he understood. Suddenly a thought came to mind and his mouth dropped open in glee. “I got an idea! Why don’t you come visit me on set?”

“What? Why?”

“Remember when you told me that sometimes being in certain environments can help you get pass a block?” She nodded. “Well, what better way to help you than being on set? It’ll do you some good to be back in your natural environment.”

“I _am_ in my natural environment. I’m home.”

“Yeah, but, Cas, there’s no way you’re gonna stay here forever, right? You’re… you’re gonna get back to work.” He meant this as a question but the words came out more as a command. He wasn’t going to let her give up on her dream because things got a little hard.

“There’s nothing for me in L.A., Charlie. George doesn’t have my best interests in mind. He never did, honestly.”

“There are other agents. Didn’t you say you were gonna fire him anyway?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Cassie,” he grabbed her hand and gently squeezed it, “I know you, girl. Better than you think. And I know how badly you craved this. This is what you’ve wanted to do your entire life. You wouldn’t give up on it so easily. So what’s this really about?”

“I… I don’t wanna tell you.”

“C’mon, girl. You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know. I know. But… I don’t wanna tell you because I don’t wanna cry again.”

“If you start up again I’ll just drag your ass back to the bathroom,” he joked.

She exhaled an airy chuckle as she shook her head. “Fine,” she relented. “I… L.A. wasn’t good for me. We both know that. I lost a friend, a lover,” the word choked in her throat, “and my career…” she scoffed at the word. “I’m not even sure I can call it that.”

“Sure you can, Cas. You did very well for yourself.”

“I did okay,” she corrected. “Besides, i-it’s not even about that. Not entirely anyway.”

“Then what _is_ this about?”

Cassie looked away from Charlie. Her focus landed on a mother feeding her chubby baby. The baby cooed and bounced in her seat before spitting up some of her meal. The mother mumbled nonsense to the child—causing her to giggle—as she wiped her face. The sweet image made Cassie smile briefly before her face relaxed back into its usual resting position. She returned her attention back to her friend who was sitting patiently for her response. “I’m afraid,” she said softly. Before Charlie could question her she added, “I’m afraid to be too far away from home. Because if things go bad again…” Her voice began to quiver again. Charlie pulled two napkins out of the holder between them in anticipation. “I don’t… I don’t think I’m strong enough yet to not go dark again.”

She didn’t cry but Charlie handed her the napkins anyway. He took the seat next to her again and embraced her. “You’re stronger than you think, Cas. I’ve seen you get through a lot worse. You’re a survivor, girl. Trust me.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is long as shit but I’m trying to set up some things to get Cassie back in L.A. No Tom in this chapter but there will probably be in the next one.

December 18, 2012

After a few more days of seemingly non-stop pestering, Cassie finally gave in and decided to visit Charlie on set. It was supposed to be a short visit—no more than an hour or so—then she could return to her day. (Even though she had nothing to do but wait for the contractors to return her many calls.) Charlie gleefully showed her around. He gushed about the cameras that, thanks to the backing of Mr. Spielberg, were of the highest quality. “I could probably film a dolphin giving birth underwater and it’ll come out clear as shit,” he said. Cassie only grinned in reply. What did she know about cameras? She was a writer, therefore, her work was in words not the technical aspects. But if he was excited then so was she.

Next he showed her the scene they were setting up. “Aimee’s character is supposed to come in here and see her husband’s hanging body and let out a scream. But I’m gonna take a cue from Hitchcock and instead of showing the gruesome body I’m gonna focus only on her face.”

“That sounds good. Remember that scene in _Affairs_ —the dish breaking one,” Cassie asked. Charlie nodded as he popped a piece of spearmint gum into his mouth. “Everyone loved the subtleness of it. You have a knack for drawing the audience into the emotions of a scene with very limited prodding, Charlie, ya know?”

“Thank you,” he humbly replied but a reddish tint flushed into his cheeks.

“My, my, Charles Leonetti,” Cassie said in an exaggerated Georgian accent, “I do believe you’re blushing, sir.” She giggled as she poked his cheeks.

“Stop it,” he said with a smile as he slapped her hand away. “I got something you gonna really love.” Before she could question him, he covered her face with his hands and led her to forward.

“Charles, where are—”

“Shh! Just keep walking. Keep going… Now stop.” He dropped his hands and Cassie’s mouth gasped open at the large tables full of food. Back when they worked on their movie they didn’t have enough funds to afford a spread as lavish as this one. They were lucky if they had more than cold meat sandwiches for lunch. But thanks to the considerable contributions of Mr. Spielberg—and a few others—the buffet before her looked as rich as if the table had been filled with caviar and lobster. Her eyes darted around the spread before it landed on a table dedicated solely to sweets.

“Can I have some,” she asked. Her eye was already on the pile of M&Ms before her.

“As much as you want. Most of the actresses here are on the ‘cigarettes, diet Coke, half a grape’ diet and the actors usually have their lunch brought in. So if you don’t eat it, it’s just gonna go bad.”

“Good looking out, my dude!” Cassie hugged Charlie’s neck and kissed his cheek before scooping up a handful of candy.

Charlie shook his head and chuckled at her. “When you’re ready come have a seat next to me. I got them to get a seat for you. We’ll be ready to roll again in ten.” Cassie nodded that she understood then popped more candy into her mouth.

“You like candy, huh,” a voice asked from beside her. Cassie gave the speaker a sideways glance and shrugged her shoulders. She grabbed a cup and filled it to the brim with M&Ms before moving down the table and grabbing multiple finger sandwiches. “You’re not like other girls,” the man said as he followed her; his eyes watched her ass move in her well-fitting jeans.

“I assure you I am,” she replied as she popped a warm grape into her mouth causing her face to sour.

“Nah,” he corrected, “most girls don’t eat. But you do. I bet you _love_ to eat.” The clumsy innuendo caught her ear and made her fully face him. He was tall, pale, and his hair looked as if it hadn’t been washed in days—no, make that weeks. He had a thin dark mustache on his top lip that currently was dotted with stale green boogers. The sight of it was almost enough to curb Cassie’s appetite. He ran his hand through his thin, greasy hair. “If you’re still hungry I have something much more edible back at my trailer.”

Cassie audibly groaned in disgust. “Stop. Just stop. You’re embarrassing yourself. What’s wrong with you? Did you really think I came all this way to be bothered by,” she waved her free hand across his body, “ _this?_ ”

“Hey, there’s no reason to be a bitch! I was just—”

“You were just being disgusting on every level. Do us both a favor and take _all of that_ away from all of this, please.”

“You’re just an extra! You can’t talk to me like that!”

Cassie debated on correcting this poor man’s mistake but decided against it. It was after two in the afternoon—and yet still _too_ early to get into such foolishness—and Cassie didn’t want to exhaust any more energy on the man. She just wanted to eat her weight in food and watch her best friend live out his dream. “Whatever.” She filled up a new cup with fruit—yes, even the warm grapes—then grabbed her snacks and headed for the seat next to Charlie. “Oh,” she paused and turned back to the man, “you might wanna wipe your face, dude. It’s gross as hell.”

Cassie took her seat next to Charlie and for the next twenty minutes watched him work his genius. After the first take he wasn’t satisfied and gave a few pointers to the lead actress. The second take was much better but the actress’ counterpart—the disgusting man Cassie had the unfortunate run-in with—was off. Charlie tried to steer him in the right direction but after five useless takes he gave up. “Okay, Trevor! What is it? You had this yesterday. What’s the problem?”

“I’m just… distracted.”

“Obviously. Can you please… un-distract yourself so that we can move on?”

“I can’t. There’s a disturbance in my aura. I can’t connect to this role until it’s fixed.”

“Fucking actors,” Charlie mumbled under his breath as he rose. “Look, I’m all for you finding your spiritual path. Really I am. But I suggest you find a way to reconnect your aura to this role or whatever the shit you said before I find someone else that will. Understand?”

The man exhaled a loud derisive laugh at Charlie’s warning. “I’m the lead! Who are you going to get to replace me? Especially since we filmed so much.” He patted Charlie on the shoulder. “Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves, Charles.”

Charlie gave a disgusted glance at Trevor’s hand then looked back into the man’s eyes. “Oh he’s dead,” Cassie whispered to Charlie’s assistant. “Goodbye, Booger Beard.” The assistant’s chuckle at her comment was cut short by Charlie shouting his name.

“Paul!” The young man ran up to him and prepared himself to be bombarded with a list of instructions. “Do you still know the lines for this role?”

“Uh… y-yes,” the man cautiously answered.

“Get in there and give it a shot, will ya?”

“Uh… s-sure.” The kid carefully put his notepad and cell on the floor and nervously walked up to the lead actress, Aimee. “Uh, hi.” She smiled as polite as she could but it was obvious she was annoyed by the entire scene. Paul turned back to Charlie who gave him a reassuring nod. A laugh hung in Trevor’s throat as he watched the young man clear his throat and visibly shake out his nerves. Yet the smile soon fell from his face as Paul dropped to his knees before Aimee and recited the lines to perfection.

“See that Trevor? Talent is all around.” Charlie signaled for security with his hand. “I think what I’ll do is… I’ll give Paul your part. I’ll reshoot and edit around your already filmed scenes. That’ll be what? An extra week in production? I don’t think Steven will mind that much since I’m already two weeks ahead of schedule.”

“You fucking prick,” Trevor shouted as he fought against the guards. “You can’t do this to me! There’s rules!”

“I can and I did, friend! Guys, make sure to not mess up the costume,” he said to the security. “Speaking of which can someone get Paul here to costume. Let’s have this all reset. Aimee take another twenty. You’re doing splendid. Let’s hurry, y’all! I don’t wanna be here all night!” Charlie too his seat back to Cassie. “Thoughts?”

“You’re such a bitch.” Charlie only laughed loudly in reply.

Another hour passed and Cassie found herself completely enthralled by watching Charlie in his element. He knew how to talk to each actor to pull the best performance out of them. She watched through the monitor as the camera zoomed in onto Aimee’s face as she walked in onto her dead “husband’s” body. Before Charlie’s guidance the woman played it too melodramatically. It was nearly comical. Yet now, she played it with enough subtly and heartache that the emotions rung more genuine. _If the woman didn’t at least get nominated for an award after this then the whole system is even more fucked than I thought_ , Cassie mentally mused as she wiped a tear from her eye.

“How was that,” Charlie asked. Cassie knew that he didn’t need her opinion but she like that he sought it anyway.

“Beautiful,” she replied with a sniff. God she was such a cry baby but sometimes a good film just moves you. Cassie felt that this one had the potential to be one of the greats.

“I agree.” Charlie turned back to the crew. “That’s it for today, y’all! Good work everyone! Have a very happy holiday! See y’all January seventh!” He turned to Cassie. “You’re not gonna leave right away are you?”

Cassie popped another M&M—from her third or fourth cup—into her mouth before rising and stretching. “I don’t know. I’ve been here for hours. I need to call these goddamn contractors again.”

“Stay a while. I want to introduce you to someone. I meant to do it earlier but I got distracted. Kali,” he waved a short, slender brown skinned woman down. “Kali, I like to introduce you to my dear friend, Cassie Greene.”

“Cassie Greene! It’s a pleasure!” The two women politely shook hands. “I loved _Inopportune Affairs_! My younger sister used that scene where your character and her girlfriend are arguing over your character coming out in her thesis.”

“Really,” Cassie asked; her brow was wrinkled in confusion. “Why… why would she do that?”

“Because,” she giggled and looked at Charlie, her face matched Cassie’s in confusion, “it was brilliant! I mean your acting in that scene was great and all but the writing! We got a copy of one of the revised screenplays online and… Oh, wow. I should stop before I start fangirling.”

“I… I don’t know how to respond to this,” Cassie chuckled uneasily. “This is a… really… strange feeling for me.” Kali’s face began to drop in sadness. “No! I mean a good strange,” Cassie quickly added. “I don’t meet many… yous.”

“The word is ‘fan,’ Cas,” Charlie chimed in. “It’s okay to use it.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Kali assured. “I love meeting fellow women writers. Especially those of color. There’s so few of us in the industry. You can literally count them on one hand.”

“Yeah, it’s a fucked up business.”

“My boyfriend once told me, ‘It’s an ugly business and you’re gonna get fucked. So just bring your rubbers and hope for the best!’” Cassie couldn’t help but to cackle loudly at the adage. “So… what have you been up to? I hope this doesn’t sound crazy but I’ve been keeping watch on your career but you seemed to be under the radar. I’m guessing you got something big cooking, yeah?”

Cassie popped the last M&M in her cup into her mouth and rolled it around her tongue. She gently humped her shoulders and said, “Not really. I, uh, I didn’t really get too many good opportunities thrown my way.”

“You need a better agent.”

“That is the understatement of the year, I think. But, uh, it’s not _just_ him. I don’t… I don’t exactly fit the look of people Hollywood is willing to let tell stories.”

Kali nodded in understanding. “Neither do I. Hell, the only way I got this baby greenlit was because of my pale skinned co-writer, Jackson. He did all the talking and I sat there like a pretty brown doll as he explained _my_ words, _my_ characters, _my_ baby to some white dude in a suit. It’s shit!”

The two continued chatted as the set shut down around them. “Hey,” Charlie interrupted. “I hate to break up y’all conversation but we gotta get out of here. How about we finish this over dinner, hmm?”

\--------------

Cassie really liked Kali. She was smart and funny and incredibly talented at writing. Kali had begged her to read a draft of the script she was currently working on. Cassie couldn’t turn her down. Literally. The woman nearly shoved the script into Cassie’s face when they sat down for dinner. (She had brought an extra copy in her tote bag sized purse.) Cassie silently said some semblance of a prayer as she skimmed through the first scene. To her great relief, the work was good. There was still some work to be done, of course, but for a first draft it was damn good. Cassie even told her such. “Really,” the woman beamed as she retrieved her script from Cassie.

“Really. I could never write something that good the first time out.”

Kali turned to Charlie and asked, “Do you think Ashley would like it?”

“Who’s Ashley,” Cassie inquired before Charlie could reply to Kali.

“He’s my agent. You two should meet sometime.”

“I already have an agent though. Besides, I’m not sure I still want to do,” she waved her hand around, “this.”

Kali’s big brown eyes grew wider. “You have got to be shitting me!” The loud comment caused the other patrons to turn their heads in annoyance to their table. However, Kali paid them no mind and continued, “You can’t sit on a talent like yours!”

“I’m not… I’m not sitting on it! I’m just…” Cassie finished her statement with a shrug. She looked down at her hands like a chastised child even though no one was admonishing her. She suddenly realized she was in the company of a stranger and thought it best to not show her sullen side. She cleared her throat and tucked a few curls behind her right ear. “I’m just taking a break from it. I haven’t had any good ideas lately and the one I’ve been toying with—”

“What’s it about,” Kali early interjected.

“Nothing.”

“‘Nothing,’” Kali repeated. “So it’s like Seinfeld: The Movie. Don’t know how I feel about that.”

Cassie exhale a soft chuckle and smiled. “It’s about these two sisters. They hate each other, like, down to the very core. Their father dies and they meet up again at the funeral after a decade.”

“Then what happens?” Kali leaned in with genuine curiosity.

“I don’t know. They fight for a scene, I guess. Haven’t fully wrote it out. Then… nothing. It-it’s just an idea. I’m barely a few scenes in.”

“You have to finish it.”

“Yeah, I know I probably should just to get back in the swing—”

“No, not ‘should.’ _Have to._ My grandmother told me, ‘Gifted people have a responsibility. They _must_ share their talents. To hold onto it, to hide it, to let it be suffocated and die out is the greatest of sins.’ Now I don’t want to brag but my grandmother knew her shit. You got a story inside you, Cassie, same as me. You and I, we have an obligation to tell them. We _have_ to write.”

Cassie sighed then threw a dirty look at Charlie. He cackled in response before folding his arms across his chest. “I told you visiting me would do you some good.” Cassie continued to cut her eyes at him. He was going to get an earful on the ride back home.

“I’m sorry,” Kali apologized when she noticed the look Cassie shot her friend. “I’m not trying to preach or overstep—though I might be too late for that—but I just hate seeing great talent go to waste. Look,” she licked her lips and shook her dark brown hair out of her face, “don’t write for me or… or for my grandmother… Write for yourself.” She dug into her large bag and pulled out a wallet, make-up bag, large bangles, then finally a card. “When you feel like the world is deserving enough to witness whatever you produced, give Ashley a call.”

Cassie looked at Charlie who gave her an encouraging head nod. She took the card with a sigh thumbed over the gold embossed name and number. “Thanks, Kali.”

\--------------

February 25, 2013

Cassie read over the copy of her screenplay in her hands for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. She grumbled as she reread a particular piece of dialogue that she absolutely hated. It didn’t feel natural enough. Perhaps she went too far with Character A’s intelligence and he read more trope than human. She sighed and dropped the thick script—too thick actually—onto the table before digging through her purse for a pencil. Normally excitement coursed through her when she was about to show Charlie a script but this time he wasn’t coming to lunch alone.

Much to Charlie’s delight, the dinner with Kali helped spark Cassie’s desire to write again. She never really thought of her writing as a gift. Sure she loved to write and might have had a bit of knack for it—with much practice anyway—but “gift” was really pushing it. Yet this woman who knew her all of three hours had more faith in her ability than even Cassie currently seemed to possess.

That night she went home and stared at her laptop for an hour. She typed one word then another and about fifty words in found herself blocked again. Another hour of unproductive staring passed before she finally got fed up and quit for the evening. She came back two days later filled with determination. She wrote a hundred words. It was nowhere near her daily goal of a thousand—which, on a good day, she could surpass with ease. But every day she kept at it. A hundred words turned into five, one page turned into ten, one scene into eight. Before she knew it she had written and entire screenplay. It was utter trash—her first drafts never displayed her full talent—but it was done.

She called Charlie with the great news. “I’m so proud of you, Cas! I want to read it.”

“Where do I mail a copy to? Are you still at your old address?” Filming in Louisiana had already wrapped and now the final filming were to take place in Los Angeles with a few weeks in Toronto.

“Yeah, I am, but, uh, I was thinking maybe you can bring it with you.”

“Huh?”

He chuckled in her ear. “I want you to fly out and come visit. It’s been too long.”

“Charlie, I don’t—”

“Just a visit, Cas. A week at most. Besides, how else are you gonna have your meeting with Ashley Mirren?”

Cassie sucked her teeth and smile. “Now how did you know I called him?”

“Because I know you, Cas. You didn’t just call to tell me you finish your screenplay. If you wanted me to read it you would’ve mailed me a copy to edit already. You wrote something great and you’re ready to unleash it on the world. You’re just calling to give me a heads up, aren’t you?”

“I hate that you know me so well.”

“No, you don’t. I got an airbed with your name on it already.” She laughed and thanked him. “When’s your meeting?”

“February twenty-fifth. Not gonna lie… I’m nervous as hell.”

“You want me to come along?”

“No. No, I’m a big girl. I can take a meeting by myself. Besides, you have your movie and all that good shit.”

“You want me to come along,” he repeated with a smile.

“Would you,” she pouted into her cell. “I mean… just being somewhere around would make me less nervous, I think.”

“I got you, Cas.”

Now Cassie was still digging through her purse for a pencil. Perhaps it was for the best that she couldn’t find one. It probably wouldn’t make a great first impression if her work had last minute scratches and markings on it. Her phone dinged and called her attention. It was a text from Charlie: “Mirren. Dead ahead. Good luck!” Cassie looked back at the table Charlie was sitting at and mouth a thank you before quickly rising and shaking Ashley’s hand.

“Cassie Greene,” he asked in a Brooklyn accent.

“Yes, that’s me, Mr. Mirren.”

“Please call me Ashley or Ash.” Ashely looked much younger in person that his picture on the agency’s website. In person he looked barely thirty even though he was actually nearing fifty. His youthful features were only enhanced by his well-toned physique. He wore a fitted sweater that showed off his broad chest and impressive biceps. His pants also left nothing to the imagination. If the man got even the tiniest bit excited the entire restaurant would know it. This man was proud of his body and wanted everyone else to be as well.

Before she knew it, a memory of Tom getting dressed flashed before her. He was adjusting himself into his pants. “You know,” she had said, “you walk out this house with those damn jeans on and you’ll kill your entire fandom. You know that right?”

He gave her that signature laugh of his and kissed her lips. “That’s the plan, darling.”

Cassie smiled at the memory before she could catch herself. _Dammit,_ she mentally cursed herself and pushed the image away before retaking her seat. Ever since she returned to L.A., her random longings for Tom had seemed to increase. Anything could spark a flood of memories: cooking breakfast, taking a shower, driving past a restaurant they used to lunch at, going to the movies. He was everywhere in L.A. As badly as she wanted to restart her career, she was beginning to have second thoughts about the city. If this man was half as good as Kali had made him out to be then she didn’t need to be in town at all to make things happen, right? She could fuck up the industry from the comfort—and safety—of her hometown, right?

“I remember you,” Ashley said while flagging down the waitress. Cassie smiled at the comment. That was a good sign. That meant that she wasn’t entirely a has-been, right? “You were everywhere one minute and then the next—boom!—gone.” The smile dropped from her face. She could really do without people continually mentioning that she quickly fell from the spotlight. She had her Oscar holding down a stack of papers in her office to remind her. “What happened, kid?” Cassie started to speak but Ashley answered for her. “I’ll tell you what happened. You got involved with a snake.”

The smile reappeared on her face. “Yes. I did.”

“George Weiss doesn’t give a shit about you. If he did you’d be on your fourth picture by now.”

“You sure know how to sell it, mister.”

“That’s my job, kid.” Cassie frowned at the nickname but she figured it was better than George calling her “doll.” “Look,” he patted her script, “I don’t know what’s in here. It could be the next _Godfather_ or it could be the next… _Son of the Mask_. Have you seen that piece of shit? It’s awful. My son loves it though. But he’s two. He also loves pissing in the bathtub. Anyway, this work here can be the greatest or the worst thing I’ve ever read but it don’t matter.”

“Wh-what?”

“I said, ‘it don’t matter,’ kid. Because it doesn’t. Everybody knows that you got talent. But nobody gives two shits about it. This is Hollywood, kid. You’re only as important as your next big thing. Now,” he waved for the waitress again. She nodded and put up her index to signal for him to give her a moment. “Jesus H. Christ! What does a guy gotta do to get a little service around here? Look, kid—”

“Can you please stop calling me ‘kid’?”

“Sure, k—uh, Cassie,” he gave her a reassuring smile; she returned it with an annoyed one. “Listen, you need to get your name back out there. People need to be reminded who Cassie Greene is. You wanna know how we do that?”

“Get my script greenlit?” She tried to swallow her irritation but failed miserably.

“No. PR! We gotta build hype around you. Remind people that you’re still living! I know a girl, Miranda, great with turning careers around. Mickey Rourke? Robert Downey, Jr.? That was all her! She’ll spin the hype machine in your favor. Make the people want you.”

“But what about my work? I—”

“I’m getting there, kid. I’m getting there! Now, once you decide to sign with me, I’m not gonna lie to you here, it’s gonna get ugly with ol’ Georgy Boy. He don’t like to lose. We’ll have Miranda spin that in our favor. Make him be the big bad wolf. He’ll sue for breach of contract but they won’t fight long. Not for you anyway. No offense.”

“Offense taken,” she snapped as she folded her arms across her chest. Where the hell is this amazing agent that Kali gushed over? Cassie would love to talk to him instead of whoever-the-hell was sitting before her. “Why won’t he fight for me?”

“You’re old hat.”

“Huh?”

“Old news.” Cassie rolled her eyes and bounced her knee in agitation. “Hey, don’t get mad at me, kid. I calls them like I sees them. The truth is George sat on you too long. Any excitement for you is probably on its last leg. Now it’s not _entirely_ your fault. I’m pretty sure the snake talked a good game and made you believe you weren’t getting fucked. I know him. He probably told you every fucking line in the book.”

“Yeah,” she admitted. “Kinda like you are now.”

He laughed as he waved at the waitress. “You got spunk, kid. I like that. Hello, miss! Can I just get some fucking Greek yogurt and granola? All I want is a bowl of yogurt! Why’s that so fucking hard?”

Cassie tapped a passing waitress on the elbow. “Excuse me, can you get us our waitress please? We’ve been waiting for a long time and he’s getting a little cranky.”

“Sure, miss. No problem.” The waitress exited to the back of the restaurant and a minute later their waiter appeared.

“Sorry for the wait. We’re really busy today. What can I get for you guys today?”

Ashley opened his mouth to speak but Cassie ordered for him. “A bowl of Greek yogurt with granola and a turkey and Swiss sandwich for me, please. Mustard instead of mayo. Thanks.”

“I’ll be right out with your orders,” the waiter said as he wrote down their order.

“Sometimes being nice can get you a long way, Ashley.”

“Yeah, but nice won’t bring our order any faster.”

“Maybe. But it might help in making sure that it doesn’t come with an order of spit. Speaking of which, you might not wanna eat your lunch.”

Ashley chuckled heartily and replied, “I like you. I wanna represent you.”

“I’m not sure I want to be represented by someone who called me a hack.”

“I never called you that.”

“Right. You called me a has-been.”

“I never called you that either, kid. You’re not that. Not yet. I said the buzz surrounding you is waning. It ain’t dead yet. You get with me and I can revive your career.”

Cassie bit her lip as she mulled it over. “How do I know this isn’t a line or some shit? How do I know you won’t just do to me what George’s already done?”

“Because I don’t lie, Cassie. At least not to my clients. You got potential, kid. There ain’t no reason that within the next two years you can’t be…” he searched for a name, “…a young Shonda Rimes.”

Cassie laughed at the name. “She was the first black person that came to your mind, huh?”

“Yeah. See? No lies. So what do you think?”

“You’re positive you can get me out of my contract?”

“Like I said, George will put up a front but won’t fight long. You’ll be free in three, four months tops.”

“And you can guarantee me actual work? Good work? I don’t really give a shit about the acting but my writing… I need to know that I can at least… get a television gig.”

“Kid, you get with me and I’ll have every major cable network fighting to put you on the roster.”

“And will you will stop calling me ‘kid’?”

“I’ll call you whatever you want, Cassie,” he said with a broad grin. “So what do you say? Let’s talk numbers?”

Cassie really needed a change. She also wasn’t ready to give up on her dream. Hell Charlie got his so why shouldn’t she? Maybe this guy would be the kick start she needed in her life. The worst she could do was fail and, hey, she was already at the bottom. It never hurt to try, right? “Okay, Ash. Let’s talk numbers.”


	26. Chapter 26

Cassie had been keeping quiet about the outcome of her meeting with Ashley Mirren for the past few days. She didn’t want to jinx anything in case the man turned out to be more talk than action. Thankfully he wasn’t. The moment she stepped foot inside Charlie’s apartment she waved around a copy of the contract and said, “Guess who just got a new agent, bitch!”

Charlie had been reclining in a large armchair looking over a few notes from some scenes he shot last week. When she stormed in he threw them onto the coffee table in front of him, gleefully jumped up from his chair and ran to Cassie. He picked her up and spun her around in circles causing her to giggle. “I am so very, very proud of you, Cas,” he said before spinning her again.

“Thank you! Can you stop spinning me please? I think I can feel my lunch coming back up.”

“Sorry.” He sat her back on her feet. “Sorry. We should celebrate!”

“Yes! How about a dinner at one of those fancy schmancy restaurants. You can pay since you’re such a big shot now.”

“One film does not make me a big shot, Cas,” he laughed.

“Maybe not. But you will be soon. And I’m getting in my favors early. So where your rich ass gonna take me?”

“Cas, I’m not rich. If I was do you think I’d still be living in this little one bedroom? I’d be in a mansion living it up with my many pool boys.”

“Pool boys? Charlie, you can’t swim.”

“I know,” he said with a wink before falling into laughter.

Cassie shook her head and joined him. “You so nasty.”

“The grossest.” He kissed her forehead. “But seriously we should find some place nice and cheap to eat then maybe hit a bar for a couple of drinks.”

“No. No drinks, remember?”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Charlie smiled at the news that she was at least trying to curb her drinking. Her family did for her what he couldn’t do and he was glad about it. “Well,” he continued, “we’ll think of something. Maybe we’ll take in a movie or hit a club or—”

His thought was cut off by the sound of the Ying Yang Twins’ “Whistle While You Twerk.” “Sorry,” Cassie said as she answered her phone. “That’s Kali. I texted her about the good news earlier.” Charlie smiled and nodded. He was glad the two were getting along so well. He thought she needed someone who was directed on the same career path to talk to. Especially since he wouldn’t be around much while filming. He retook his seat and resumed looking over his notes. Cassie answered her cell. “Hey, girl!”

“Congrats,” Kali yelled out. “We should go celebrate!”

“Charlie just said the exact same thing. We were thinking dinner and maybe a movie or something.”

“Dinner and a movie? Are you guys a retired couple from Florida?” Cassie stifled a laugh at the comment. “A friend of my boyfriend’s cousin heard about this party tonight. We should go!”

“A friend of your boyfriend’s cousin?” Cassie squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Kali loved to party crash. She was always hearing about some party somewhere that was invite only. “This ain’t gonna be like that time we went to Beverly Hills, is it? I’m not trying to get arrested. I’m too black for that shit.”

“No,” Kali replied with a laugh. “No, we were invited to this one. Well, my boyfriend’s cousin’s friend was but _he_ invited us so same diff right?”

“Yeah. ‘Same diff.’ That’s what I’ll tell my public defender when our asses get locked up.”

“We won’t get in trouble, Cas! Will you just trust me?”

“I guess,” Cassie relented with a loud sigh.

“Great! I’ll pick you guys up at eight. We’ll have dinner then have some fun.”

\----------

Tom shared a polite laugh with a leggy, brown-eyed blonde. He wasn’t even sure of what she was saying—he’d only been half-listening anyway. He didn’t even want to come to this damn party but his friend Michael had convinced him to. “C’mon, Tom! You’ll be back in L.A. for a few days why not hang out a little,” he had told him. “It might take your mind off of things.” Michael, like all of Tom’s close friends, had heard about the bad break up between him and Cassie. He had seen it coming. The break up was always imminent with Tom. Yet this one seemed to eat at him in ways the others hadn’t.

Michael had heard from a mutual friend that Tom had been pretty despondent since he returned from Iceland at the end of January. It had to take an act of God to drag him to this party. And even now he was still half here. Michael watched as he friend smiled and nodded politely to whatever the woman in front of him was saying but it was obvious he wasn’t fully invested. He leaned against the bar and waved down the bartender for another drink--it was only his second but Michael kept tabs in case a repeat of Hemsworth’s birthday party should take place. Tom’s eyes often darted from the woman to any random passerby. It was extremely rare that he did that. His focus was always keenly honed in to whomever he was addressing. He had the demeanor of someone who was at a funeral instead of a party.

Michael decided to help his sullen friend out. He walked up to the couple and slapped Tom on his back causing him to nearly spill his drink. “Excuse me do you mind if I talk to my friend for a moment,” he asked the woman.

“Not at all,” she smiled before reaching into her purse and pulling out a card. “If you ever need help with anything just give my firm a call. That’s my direct line.”

Tom nodded and took the card with a smile. The moment the woman was out of his line of vision he nonchalantly tossed it onto the bar. “What does she do,” Michael asked out of curiosity.

“I’m not sure. Something in real estate. I was half listening honestly.”

Michael exhaled a heavy sigh and signaled for the waiter to bring him a 7 and 7. “Brother, you got to pull yourself out of this funk. It’s making _me_ depressed.”

“I’m not in a funk.” Michael gave in an incredulous look. “Okay. Maybe just a little bit of one. But you would be too if you fucked up your happiness like I did.”

“Yeah, you messed up. I’ll give you that. But look around you, Tom. This placed is filled with pretty women who are willing to give you happiness and anything else you want.”

Tom cut his eyes at his friend. He shook his head and took another sip of his Jameson. “I’m not talking about sex, Mike. I’m…” he licked his lips, “I’m talking about more than that. The things that can’t be replaced.” The coconut scent of her hair, the sound of her infectious laughter, the feeling of her hands running through his hair as she comforted him after a bad day, the long talks in bed on Sunday mornings, the sound of her southern accent cooing every word that fell from her lips. Those were the things that he gave up when he pushed her away. Those were things that he missed the most. “I can fuck some woman tonight and the next and the next but… I won’t mean shit in the end. Plus, I’m tired, brother. I just turned thirty-three. I should be looking for something more stable, you know?”

“Wow. Cassie must’ve really done a number on you, huh?” Tom threw him another look but Michael was unfazed by it. “I meant that in a good way, Tom. In all the years I’ve known you I’ve never heard you talk like this.” Tom shrugged and gulped down the last of his Jameson. He waved away the bartender when he offered him a refill. He didn’t want to get drunk tonight. Well, at least not publically. He had an entire bar waiting in his hotel room. He’d much rather get pissed in private anyway. “So,” Michael said after a brief pause in their conversation, “what are you going to do now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… have you talked to her?”

“Cas?” Michael nodded. “No.” He sucked in a breath of air and scratched his temple. “I… I thought about calling her so many times but I… I doubt she wants anything to do with me. I treated her like shit. There are no amounts of apologizes that can undo the hurt I caused.”

“So what? You’re just going to wallow in self-pity? What’s it’s called? Auto-flagellation? You’re going to beat yourself up over a mistake? You got to move on, dude. I mean if you’re not going to at least _try_ then…” He finished his statement with a hump of his shoulders.

“Yeah. I guess you’re right. I’m going to, uh… head to loo then leave.”

“Tom, c’mon, dude. Don’t be like that. I wasn’t trying to—”

“No, no. It’s all right, mate. You’re good. I just really need to clear my head right now.” Tom patted Michael on his shoulder and headed for the nearest bathroom.

\----------

Cassie sat in a corner and watched the random partygoers. She wasn’t really in much of a party mood. She couldn’t drink and her heels were made for aesthetic purposes only. Any movement beyond a few powerful strides would guarantee her a hard and painful fall. Instead she bopped to the music as she watched Charlie flirt with some random guy. The guy was far from Charlie’s type—too thin and clean shaven (he was never one for the twink look)—but she guess that it had been a while since he got some so she mentally rooted for him.

Across the room she could see Kali fighting with her boyfriend Frank. Cassie didn’t like him at all. He reminded her too much of Daya’s ex, Zach: controlling and manipulative. Every time she saw him her skin would crawl in disgust. She hadn’t known Kali that long so she figured it wasn’t her place to question her boyfriend or their relationship. (At least not to her face.) Still she watched Frank closely. And she always checked Kali’s skin for any marks of abuse. Although some abusers knew that there were certain places where marks could hide easily so she might never see them unless Kali showed her.

Her stomach turned as she watched Kali put a hand on her slim hips and while the other waved wildly about as she inaudibly yelled at her boyfriend. Frank looked around obviously embarrassed by the entire scene. Cassie sat up straight—her body on high alert—as Frank grabbed Kali’s wrist and pulled him closer. Cassie jumped to her feet and clenched her fists as Kali pushed against his chest. She fought against his grasp until she freed herself from him. Then she waved her bony finger in his face as she yelled at him. Cassie, meanwhile, watched intently; her body was still tense. Frank tried to reach for Kali again but she bobbed his grasp. He tried again and again she refused to be held. She yelled at him again but this time she said something he didn’t like. When he forcefully grabbed Kali’s forearm, Cassie figured she had seen enough.

“Charlie,” she called out over the loud music. He quickly turned his attention to her. “Kali,” she said with a point before making a beeline to her friend. Charlie followed closed behind without hesitation.

By the time they made it to the couple, Kali was slapping up a storm on Frank. “You fucking asshole,” she shouted between hits. “Our fucking assistant? She’s barely nineteen! You fucking pervert!”

“You, uh, you need some help,” Charlie asked.

“You bet he does,” Kali screamed. “He fucked our assistant! Our teenage assistant!”

“She’s twenty,” Frank said while covering his face.

“No, she’s not, dumbass! Her nineteenth birthday was two days ago! I signed the fucking card!” Kali slapped him again. “After all the shit you’ve put me through… You go and fuck a child!”

“Ow! Ow! Could you guys help me out here?”

“Why should we,” Cassie asked as she folded her arms across her chest. A broad pleased smile grew on her lips. She wasn’t happy that her new friend had been cheated on by this asshole but she did enjoy watching him get a (assumingly) long overdue ass whooping.

“Kali—ow!—please! Let me explain!”

“Save it!” She stopped hitting him. She flipped her dark brown hair from her eyes. “I’ve had enough of your lies and excuses. Ten years! Ten years of your bullshit and I am done! I hope she gave you something to make your dick fall off, you piece of shit!”

Frank was about to respond but a large security guard appeared behind him and spoke first. “Is there a problem here,” he asked in a deep, booming voice.

“Yeah. This guy’s an asshole,” Kali answered.

“Sir, do you have an invitation?”

“Yeah.” He nervously dug into his front and back pockets but couldn’t find his invite. “I swear it’s here somewhere.”

“Sir, if you don’t have an invite then you need to leave.”

“I have it! I just…” He checked his front pockets again. “I’m sure it’s…” He checked his back ones. Still nothing.

“Sir, if you don’t have an invite I’m gonna have to politely ask you to leave.”

“Now, hold on just a minute Ving Rhames! I have it here!”

“Come with me.” The guard grabbed Frank’s upper arm and began pulling him.

“No, wait! My cousin’s friend works here! He knows me! Mark! Mark! Let me go!”

The trio watched as Frank uselessly fought against the tall, muscular guard until he was out of their sight. Cassie placed a gently, comforting hand on Kali’s shoulder and asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah. I just… I feel so stupid!”

“Do you want to leave? Shit! Frank’s got the keys, don’t he? Well, we’ll just call a cab and—”

“No,” she replied with a wave of her hands. “I don’t want to go back to my apartment yet. If I see him I’m going to kill him! I need a drink.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Thank you both.”

“No problem,” Charlie replied. He watched her headed for the bar. She patiently stood next to a medium build black man that Charlie vaguely recognized. Where had he seen him before? He pondered over it for a while before the answer finally hit him. Michael! Tom’s friend from their poker games. _Oh shit_ , he thought as his eyes quickly searched around the room. For the two weeks that Cassie had been staying with him, he hadn’t heard a single mention of her ex. He liked it that way. She had moved on and was about to move up to better things. The last thing she needed was a bad reminder from her old life

“Charlie?” Cassie’s voice drew his attention to her. “Who you looking for?”

“No one. Well, um, the guy I was talking to,” he lied. He didn’t want to mention Tom’s name and ruin the rest of her evening.

“Trying to get a lil sumthin’ sumthin’ to take home, I see?”

“Well it has been three years, Cas. You know blue balls is an actual thing?”

“Ew! Gross! Please don’t make me think about your balls.”

“Oh, you _love_ my balls, Cas!”

“Okay, you say ‘balls’ again and you catching these hands, my dude.” Charlie chuckled as his eyes continued to search the building. “Oh, god… I hope you find ol’ boy because you got this really desperate look on your face right now.”

“Well, I hope I don’t find him,” he mumbled to himself.

“What?”

“I, uh, nothing.”

“Okay. Well, my feet are starting to hurt again. I’m gonna go out to the balcony for some fresh air and hopefully rest my feet for a few minutes.”

“Good,” he nearly exclaimed the word. If she wasn’t inside then the chances of her possibly running into Tom were even lower, right? He really hoped so.

“Keep an eye on Kali, please? If she gets too out of hand come get me and I’ll help you with her.”

Charlie nodded in agreement and watched her push past a few of the partiers and head out to the balcony. “Fuck,” he murmured under his breath as he continued searching the place.  

\----------

Tom returned to the bar and waved down the bartender. “How much do I owe you for the drinks, mate?”

“$21.50.”

Tom whistled at the steep price but paid it (generous tip included). He looked around for Michael so he could say good night again. He found him dancing on the floor next to a pretty short woman. Tom shook his head. The man has only been single for a week and already he had moved on. However, Michael was pretty resilient. He could go from a bad break up to a possible new girlfriend without missing a beat. _I’ll text him,_ Tom thought as he bounced down the two steps where the bar area was located to the main floor.

He began to make his way through the crowd. He absentmindedly looked out the large glass windows and what he saw made him stop in his tracks. Could it be? Was it _her?_ His pretty little Cassie? Had months long yearning for her produced a facsimile to torture him with? Or had God finally taken pity on this poor man and allowed his life to be blessed by her presence again?

This woman… She looked just like his Cassie. Same round face. Same full lips. Same sad, dark eyes. Her hair was cut a lot shorter than when he last saw her but he could never forget that reddish hue. The dress she wore hugged her hips—which now looked a little more round than he remembered. Her thighs were a little thicker as well (and he could only imagine what her ass looked like). Her short legs looked longer in the high heels she wore. She licked her glossed lips and Tom wanted nothing more than to burst through the glass and ensnare those luscious devils between his own. But was it her?

There was only one way to find out. Tom pushed passed the people rudely blocking the exit—nearly tripping over his feet in the process. She now stood there with her back to him grounding the toes of her shoes into the pavement. He knew that action. That was something she did when her feet were tired but she couldn’t properly rest. If this were the old days—the good days—he would take her home and rub her feet as she soaked in the tub. If he was smart... No. If he was _lucky_ he could get those days back again.

Oh how he desperately wanted them—wanted _her_ —back. How many times had he stared at her name in his cell contacts and hesitated on calling her? How many times did he rehearse his apology in his head? Or written it down once or twice only to tear the pages out and trash them? A hundred? A thousand?

He took slow strides. He wanted to run to her but decided caution was better just in case she was some elaborate delusion. He reached out a hand and nearly melted when he felt the soft warmth of her skin on his fingertips again. She turned with a start. “Cassie?”

The sight of him nearly took her breath away. “T-Tom?”


	27. Chapter 27

Nearly eight months had passed since she saw him last. Eight long and hard months. Now here he stood before her looking as handsome as ever. At first she didn’t believe it. It was a dream. Some hallucination her desire had produced. She knew it! Goddammit! She knew being back in Los Angeles was bad. Everything already reminded her of him. She could barely drive down the street without spotting some place they frequented either as friends or lovers. Music, TV, movies, even food could spur on the tiniest memory. With every repeated reminder came those slow edges of want. She had to fight many a night from walking her fingers down her stomach and into her panties to relieve the tension the memories produced.

Now here he was in the flesh saying her name in that lush accent of his. If she believed in god she would denounce him for his cruelty. “Cassie,” Tom repeated. His eyes fell to her lips before returning to her dark eyes. “Is it really you?”

“Y-yes,” she stuttered. Damn. She hated that her confidence wavered in his presence. She had mentally rehearsed what she would do and say to him if she ever ran into him again. She’d slap him and tell him to fuck off. Then she’d probably flip her hair and twist off leaving him in amazement and pain. Okay. So it wasn’t the strongest of plans but it was something.

Yet here she stood now mere feet apart from him and it was nothing less than torture. Every time she inhaled she got a strong whiff of his intoxicating cologne. What was the name of that scent again? Whatever it was it made her feel as if every nerve was lighting up at once. Her body missed him. Hell it _ached_ for him. But she wouldn’t give in to it. She came this far. She could fucking fight it.

He took a step closer to her. “You look… amazing, Cas.”

She couldn’t keep her focus off his lips. The way his mouth moved when his spoke was always her weakness. Innocent words and phrases became nothing less than erotic in his mouth. She could remember the feel of it ghosting across her skin as his long fingers moved in and out of her. Oh no. _Abort mission, Cas! Abort fucking mission!_ She turned from him. If she didn’t have to look at him she wouldn’t risk being tempted. She took a deep inhale to calm her body. It didn’t work. “What,” she cleared her throat, “what do you want, Tom?”

“I…” He reached out to touch her again but decided against it. “I just…” He licked his lips as he tried to find the proper words. How could he even begin to apologize? There was so much to say, to confess… “I… I’m sorry.” She looked back at him then.

“What did you just say to me?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated the words much easier now. “I never—”

“You’re sorry,” she interrupted. “You come back after eight months and all you gotta say to me is that you’re sorry?” A lump began to form in her throat. She tried to swallow it but it wouldn’t budge. She could feel the warmth of impending tears sting her eyes. She cleared her throat and turned from him again. She would not give into her emotions so easily. “Keep your goddamn ‘sorry.’ I don’t want it.”

“Cas, please…” He touched her shoulder and, without warning, she turned and slapped him hard across the face. The action surprised even her. Tom’s head jerked to the left in response to the hit. He rubbed his reddening cheek as he looked back at her. “Cas, I—”

She cut him off with a raised index finger. “No! No. Fuck you.” The words didn’t come out as strong as she wanted them to but still she said them. She finally spoke the words and yet… nothing. She didn’t feel relief like she thought she would. Rather her chest began to feel heavy as if someone was sitting on it. She need air. _You’re already outside, girl_. Right. She need _different_ air. Air that didn’t reek of him.

She debated about heading back inside, finding Kali and Charlie and leaving. Yet she didn’t want to further ruin their evening. That would have been selfish. She needed another escape plan. On her right was a flight of stairs that lead to an upper level usually reserved for V.I.P.s. Luckily there was no guard on duty so she wouldn’t have to plead for access to the area. She quickly made an exit for it. With each step she took her chest began to ache more and more. Cassie pulled open the door to the lounge and was surprised (but relieved) to find it empty. “Oh god… oh god,” she said as she began to pace the room. She alternated between balling her fists and shaking her open palms out in hopes that it would expel her nervous tension. But neither that nor the pacing seemed to help it any. “Oh god… Oh god,” she repeated.

A moment later the door opened and Tom appeared in the frame. “Cas…”

“Tom, please…”

He closed the door behind him and walked towards her but was careful not to get too close. His face still stung from her last hit. “Listen, I know you’re upset with me—and you have every right to be—but I—”

“Don’t,” she replied while still pacing. “Just… do not.”

“Please, just let me get this one thing out and then… then I’ll leave.” She nodded her acquiescence while still pacing and shaking out her nervous energy. Tom took a deep, calming inhale. He knew that whatever he was about to say to her would probably further piss her off but he needed to get it off his chest. It was now or never. “I was a major shit. The-the way I treated you was absolutely awful. I was a coward and… and incredibly selfish.”

She gave a derisive laugh. “Ya think?”

“I deserved that slap.” She laughed again. “And any other you have planned for me. I was a fool, Cassie.”

“You’re goddamn right!” She stopped pacing and opened her mouth as if she were about to add more but closed it again. Her dark eyes darted around the dimly lit area as she tried to find her words. This was so much simpler when it was just her playing out scenarios late at night in her bed. With him here now it made everything so much more complicated. Why did it have to be so damn hard? Why did her body and her mind and her heart have to fight? Why couldn’t a simple slap and “fuck you” be enough? That nervous tension began to build again; she resumed her pacing. “You’re goddamn right,” she repeated; her words were softer than before. “But I no longer care.” The words were shaky on their exit. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself.

“That’s fair,” he said with two quick nods of his head. However, the words hit him like a hard punch to the stomach. Although he had prepared for this outcome—her grand indifference—it didn’t hurt any less. It was a long shot that she held any latent feelings for him beside intense hatred but he still retained a glimmer of hope. It was the kind of misguided optimism that could turn even the wisest man into a bumbling idiot. But Tom figured that he would be an even bigger fool if he didn’t try. “Cassie,” he grabbed her elbow to pause her movements.

“Tom, please don’t touch me,” her voice escaped in a whisper. There was no threat in her words. She wouldn’t hit him again. No. She wasn’t sure what she would do. But with the way her body was reacting to his gentle touch she knew it would be something foolish. “Please,” she begged him again.

“Sorry,” he said as he released her. Yet it was too late. That aching in her returned. Her body wanted, no, needed more than one touch. “It’s just that,” he looked down then back up at her; her breathing became shallow when he did. Those eyes! Those devilish blue eyes staring intently into hers nearly made her swoon. “It’s just,” he continued, “you’re all I think about. I know that’s clichéd and corny but… it’s also very true. Pushing you away was the dumbest thing I’ve ever did, Cas, and I und—” His words were cut off by Cassie quickly kissing him.

The kiss surprised him at first but he quickly gave into it. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. God how he missed those soft lips! How he missed the feeling of her dainty hands running across his back and up his shoulders! His hands dropped to her round ass. He squeezed the cheeks causing her to moan against his lips. The feeling of her soft body pressed against his slowly stirred his arousal. How many nights had he dreamed about holding her like this again? Of feeling her nearly faint under his touch?

Tom moved a hand up from her ass to the back her curls. Those lush curls! Shorter than before but still so soft! As he continued to bury his hand into her hair, that soft hint of coconut that he loved so much slowly began to invade his senses. With it came the onslaught of memories: her tossing her head back as she laughed, or absentmindedly twirling a curl around her finger, or it falling in cascades around her face as she rode him to ecstasy. He badly wanted to recreate that last memory. Tom pulled Cassie’s head back allowing him access to her neck. She panted as his tongue dragged across her smooth skin. “Cassie,” he whispered into the crook of her neck, “I’ve missed you so much.”

She paused when she heard the words. “Stop. Stop, stop, stop.”

Tom pulled back from her. “What,” he asked. An arm was still wrapped around her lower back; his hand that was once in her hair now caressed her cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“No.” She pushed him away. “No,” she repeated as she wiped her mouth. “Goddammit, Cas! You never fucking learn!” She squeezed her eyes shut and tapped her knuckles against her temple. “You fucking idiot!”

Tom took a step closer to her. “Cas, I—”

“No!” She backed up. “No. You… you stay the fuck away from me.”

“Cassie, I’m sorry. I didn’t…” He scratched the back of his head and stared out one of the large bay windows that overlooked the Los Angeles skyline. He glanced back at her. Her arms were folded across her chest; she rotated rocking on her heels. She seemed as if she was waiting for an answer to an unspoken question: What the hell was that? He sure as shit didn’t know. He wasn’t even expecting it. A slap? Yes. To be cursed out? Definitely. But a passionate kiss? That was the most pleasant of surprises. He wiped his bottom lip. He could still taste her strawberry lip gloss. “Cas, that was… What _was_ that?”

“I’m…” she rubbed the tip of her nose, “I’m sorry about that.” Her voice was so low it was almost inaudible.

“Don’t be. I’m not.” He reached out for her but she recoiled from him.

“Don’t. Please don’t touch me,” her soft voice cracked as she spoke.

“Okay.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. A moment of awkward silence passed between them before he spoke again. “I don’t know what to do here, Cas. I mean… One moment you’re slapping me and telling me to fuck off and the next you’re kissing me and I… I don’t know what you want.”

“I don’t either!”

“I don’t believe that, Cas. That kiss—”

“Was a mistake,” she finished for him.

The words visibly cut him. “No. I don’t believe that. That kiss… That kiss was amazing.”

“Tom, please don’t. Don’t talk to me about amazing kisses and don’t apologize and-and-and… Just…” She looked at her feet. Tears welled in her eyes and fell to the ground. _Dammit, Girl! You’re such a damn crybaby!_ Cassie sniffed and wiped them before turning her back to Tom. She didn’t want him to see her cry. She didn’t need to show him yet another weakness.

But Tom knew her well. Even if he hadn’t heard her sniffling or seen her wiping her face, the way her head was bowed and her hunched shoulders told him everything. He placed a hand on her shoulder—she didn’t stop him this time—and walked in front of her. He lifted her face with his index. “What do you want,” he asked her softly. “If you want me to leave then I will. I won’t say another word. But if you want me to stay…” he wiped the remnants of her tears away with his thumbs, “baby, just say the word and I’ll never leave you again.” He stared into her eyes and fought the temptation to kiss her again. “What do you want, Cassie?”

“I want…” She closed her eyes causing the water in the corner of them to fall down the curve of her cheeks. Tom wiped them away as well.

“You want,” he coaxed.

Cassie reopened her eyes, gently cupped his hands in hers, and said, “I want… I want to know what _you_ want.” She could fall for him again so easily. Her heart never stopped loving him; her body never stop yearning for him. Her head would often be the only voice of reason. It kept telling her to move on, to leave the past behind. However, sometimes, just to be cruel, it would reproduce old images of her and Tom in happier times. Images that, of course, further fueled her desire. That desire was why she was standing here now—body set aflame as her heart and brain warred—begging him to make his feelings plain. “What do you want,” she asked again.

“You, Cas. I want you. More than I have ever wanted anyone in my life. Cas, I—”

“Don’t. Don’t you _dare_ say it if you don’t mean it, Thomas.”

Tom kissed her forehead then the lids of her eyes and her nose before finally placing a soft one on her lips. He pulled back—leaving her nearly weak in his hands—and said, “I love you, Cassie. I always have. Please forgive me.”

Cassie’s eyelids fluttered and her heart raced as she processed his words. She studied his eyes and found nothing less than sincerity. “Say it again,” her tears, once again, flowed with ease down her face.

“I love you, Cassandra Greene.” She giggled at the use of her full name. God how he missed that laugh!

“Say it once more,” she asked with a hiccup.

He smiled at her request. “I,” he pecked her left cheek, “love,” a kiss on the right, “you, Cassie.” He placed a final kiss on her full lips. It didn’t take long for it to turn as passionate as before. His tongue danced across her lips before it dipped into her warm mouth and flick against hers. He could taste the faint sweetness of the pink lemonade she had earlier; and she could taste the richness of his Jameson. His hands traveled her body but this time it eagerly pulled at the fabric of her dress. He needed to unbind her from it so that he could taste every inch of her deep brown skin. He pulled at a strap and immediately paused once he heard it rip a bit.

“Tom!”

“Sorry! Sorry! I’ll buy you a new one!”

She hit his chest. “It’s not mine! I borrowed this from a friend.” She sucked her teeth as she inspected it under the dim lighting. “It’s just a little tear. I can probably sew it up.”

“I really am sorry,” he smiled as he pulled her back to him.

“Sure you are. That’s why you’re grinning like a Cheshire.” Their conversation flowed naturally. It amazed and pleased him that they were able to ease back into it so quickly. His missed their banter and her quick wit.

“Well,” he pulled at the dress straps again, taking special care not to ruin them, “I guess I was a little too eager to get you out of this godawful thing.”

“This dress is cute!”

“Yes, but it’s standing between me and this beautiful body.” He kissed her right shoulder then her left. Then he ran his tongue across her clavicle and up her neck. He nibbled at the concave between her shoulder and neck and rejoiced in the sweet sigh she exhale in response. “I want you, Cas,” he whispered as his hands attempted to pull up the bottom of her well-fitted dress. “All of you.”

Cassie pulled back from him and turned around. She tapped the zipper on the back of dress and silently signaled for him to pull it down. He kissed the nape of her neck as he carefully unzipped her dress. He smiled broadly at the glimpse of the top of her white panties. She faced him again and slowly pulled the top of the dress off her shoulders. His breathing hitched when he saw her perky humble breasts. He didn’t reach out for them immediately—although he longed to—instead he took the time to trace his fingertips across her warm skin. First across her stomach then between her breasts before finally landing on her tits. He thumbed her nipples and admired the way they hardened under his touch.

He kissed her lips again then her neck then fell to his knees before her. She gently ran her fingers through his hair as he nibbled and kissed her stomach. Tom tried to pull her dress down over her hips but discovered it would remove easily if it were pulled up instead. “I got it,” Cassie said as she wiggled her hips and bunched the bottom up around her waist. She lifted it over her head and tossed it onto a nearby seat—it barely caught the edge of it. She started to remove her panties next but Tom stopped her.

“No,” he said with a lick of his lips as he eyed the growing wet spot on the crotch of her underwear. “Not yet.” He wanted to take his time, to savor the moment of having her again after so long. He rose and pulled her towards one of the couches. “Lie down, darling.” She obeyed. “I love you,” he repeated. Now that he finally confessed it he planned to never stop until she got sick of hearing it. He repeated it again before he wrapped his mouth around her nipple and sucked on it.

“Thomas,” she moaned out as his tongue danced around her nipple then across to her other breast. God how he missed hearing the sound of his name in that accent!

“Say it again,” he gently commanded as his left hand now rubbed her against her underwear.

“Please,” she begged him as she rocked against his fingers, “don’t tease me.”

As much as he wanted to take his time with her, Tom conceded that it was perhaps best to not do it in their present location. Anyone could come in and see them and their evening would be ruined. He took comfort in the fact that there would be plenty more nights where he would be able to worship her thoroughly in private. For now, he would have to revel in the fact that he was inches away from having her bittersweet taste on his tongue again.

Tom crooked his fingers in the band of her panties and pulled them off her hips. He sniffed them and grinned at her scent—oh how he missed it!—before pocketing them. He kissed her lower lips twice before separating them with his index and thumb. He wiggled his tongue between her wet folds and nearly moaned at her taste. “Oh god, Cas,” he said before dragging his tongue up and encircling her clit then back down and dipping it inside her, “I’ve missed you.” Before she could respond, he buried his face in her pussy.

It seemed all his control had left him when her delicious taste hit his tongue. He pulled back far enough to spit on her pussy then continued licking at her. Cassie clutched the back of his hair and pressed him harder against her. “Aah! Thomas…” Yes! That was it! His name on those sweet lips was like a symphony to his ears. He slipped a finger inside her and swiftly moved it in and out. “Yes!”

God how she missed his tongue! How she missed those deft fingers curling inside her and wrenching her orgasm from her! She came embarrassingly quick. (Eight months without a touch from anyone—not even herself—was a long time to go without a release.) However, Tom didn’t care. That was only one orgasm. When had he ever been satisfied with just one? He sucked her juices off his finger. “Look at me, Cas. Keep your eyes on me, love.” She tried to obey but her gaze quickly broke once she felt his skillful tongue back on her clit. “Look at me,” he repeated. She again complied but found it increasingly hard to maintain focus when he slipped two fingers inside her.

“Aah! Tom,” she exclaimed as she clutched the back of the couch. His tongue and fingers felt too good. It was almost too much to bear. She pressed her other hand to his shoulder and tried to wiggle free of his grasp. “Nononono.” Tom growled as he pulled her back to him. His eyes were still locked on hers as his tongue danced around her clit. “Oh fu—” Her legs shook as her impending second orgasm began to build. Tom’s fingers worked faster now. “Tom,” she cried as he continued to furiously fuck her with his fingers and tongue. She bit her lip as she rocked against him.

Tom fidgeted with trying to unbuckle his belt with one hand so that he could offer some relief to his cock but it was useless. Instead he palmed it through his pants. He continued to suck her clit and finger her. She was close; he could tell. He remembered the signs vividly. The way her chest rose and fell as her breathing became erratic. The way her thighs tensed up around him and threatened to crush him—it would be a sweet death if they did. The way her breaths came out in whimpers. “Thom-aah,” she exclaimed as she finally came around his fingers.

Tom pulled back and proudly smiled. His face and hand was drenched with her wetness. He sat next to her on the couch and sucked her flavor off his fingers. But it wasn’t just enough to taste her. No. He need to _feel_ her. And she him.

Cassie was still coming down from her orgasmic high when she crawl towards him. She kissed the imprint of his cock through his pants before carefully unzipping them. She freed his cock and licked the pre-come from the tip then kissed it. He wanted nothing more than to feel those luscious full wrapped around him. Normally, Cassie would oblige but her body yearned for another release. It was so strange. She was used to being celibate between relationships but Tom had opened up her body in such new ways that being apart from him was like an addict going through withdrawal.

She climbed onto his lap and ground her soaked folds against his cock. “Fuck,” he whispered at the feeling of her teasing him. Cassie kissed him and exhaled an “mmm” at the taste of her come on his lips. She rose a bit, reached between her legs, and guided him towards her entrance. Both their mouths dropped open—hers accompanied by a slight wince as she had to readjust to his girth—as she slowly lowered on his length. “Are you all right,” Tom asked once he noticed her face.

“Mmm-hmm,” she answered with a lick of her lips. Cassie began to rock her hips against him. “Oh,” she exhaled as she started to find a rhythm. Tom, meanwhile, tilted his head back in sheer ecstasy.

The many nights he spent wrapping his hand around his cock was nothing more than a weak imitation for her warm cunt. She felt so damn good. Better than the finest silk. He wanted to go slow and savor every second of the moment Cassie seemed to have plans of her own. She crushed her lips against his as she began to ride him faster. “Oh f-fuck,” he called out. He draped an arm across the small of her back and press her body closer to his as he thrust up in an attempt to meet her rhythm. He captured one breast between his thin lips and sucked it.

“Mmm… Yes,” Cassie yelled in appreciation. “Oh god yes!”

The party still raged on outside. The thumping music could be clearly heard through the walls. A cacophony of random muffle conversation could also be heard. The loud grunts and swears of the couple only added to the surrounding noise. Tom grit his teeth as she pulled his head back via his hair. Cassie gasped as he squeezed then slapped her ass. Meanwhile, Charlie flirted with a man several years his senior; Kali and Michael laughed and bonded over drinks. None of them knew that their friends were fucking hard and fast on a tacky red couch just feet above them. Charlie would be livid, Kali would be indifferent—Cassie had never told her about Tom—and Michael would buy them both a round in celebration.

Cassie would eventually have to tell Charlie—it was rare they kept secrets between them—but for now, she wanted to enjoy her imminent third orgasm. She captured Tom’s bottom lip between her teeth, only releasing it once that building heat finally erupted and rippled throughout her body. This! This is what Tom missed most of all! Feeling her jerk on top of him as her pussy pulsed and clenched around his cock. He was only able to manage one more thrust before he, too, came with a loud, “Fuck!”

They rested against one another and tried to catch their breath. “Damn,” Cassie panted. She wiped the sweat from Tom’s brow and planted kisses across it.

“Right,” Tom replied in agreement as he closed his eyes to the feeling of her lips on his skin. Cassie laid her head against his, closed her eyes, and tried to enjoy the sounds of his breathing over the noise of the party. “Cas,” he asked as he nuzzled her neck.

“Hmm?”

He gazed into her eyes. “I’m going to do right by you this time. I mean it.” Cassie said nothing in response. Instead she answered with a soft, but wary smile and a quick peck on his thin lips.


	28. Epilogue

Cassie stretched and quietly yawned before rolling onto her side. She was now facing her lover, Tom. Lover. That word felt both appropriate and yet somehow not. A week had passed since the party and she and Tom had been carrying on their trysts in secret. Well, at least _she_ had been.

She had been happy—deliriously so—to be back in his embrace but she still couldn’t quite _trust_ it. Cassie loved him deeply but sometimes late at night—after all the hard fucking and amazing orgasms—doubt began to creep into her mind.

The relationship was starting off just like it had last time. Non-stop sex. It had been only a week and already she had lost count of how many times they’ve been together. That didn’t work out so well for them last time. _What if_ , her mind began to wonder, _he only said the words because he missed the fucking?_ It was a thought that ran rampant through her head nearly every night that she laid with him. She didn’t have the courage, no, the strength to question either herself or him about it out loud.

The fear that the truth—that she was nothing more than his “fun time gal,” as her grandmother would say—was too much to bear. Also, there remained a lingering worry that Tom would get scared again. Another four months from now he’d hurt her and leave. Then she’d spend another eight months in agony, kicking herself over her foolishness, until he ran back to her. What if this was the beginning of a cycle? Love, hurt, misery. Over and over until she died. _You’re a very stupid girl after all,_ she told herself.

A tear fell from one eye. She wiped it away and rose from the bed. Tom groaned and mumbled something in his sleep but didn’t awake. She walked to the bathroom of his hotel room and quietly shut the door behind her. She turned on the faucet and splashed a handful of cold water on her face. Cassie looked at her reflection—her eyes were still slightly red from sleep; water dripped from her features—and sighed loudly. “Very stupid,” she audibly repeated her inner thoughts.

How many times did she kept telling herself to make smarter decisions in regards to love only to fall hard again? An image of Jamir came to her mind. She cringed and shook it away. Next came Greg’s smiling face. She felt a mixture of emotions stir within her—anger, hurt, guilt. She splashed another handful of water on her face in hopes that it would cleanse her mind of him. It didn’t. “Fuck,” she exclaimed before pulling the stopper on the sink. She waited until it filled up half way, shut off the faucet, and dunked her head in the chilly water. She quickly jerked back from the water, wiped her face then re-submerged it. She did this twice more until her mind thought of nothing but the cold shock her body was repeatedly subjected to.

Cassie grabbed a nearby towel and patted her face dry. The sounds of the outside environment caught her attention and she walked towards the half-open window and looked out of it. So far it seemed to be a very nice morning. She didn’t know the hour but it was late enough for the sun to be high in the sky but still early enough for half the city to still be asleep. Cassie smiled softly at the warm morning sun lighting up the tops of buildings and at the sounds of distant conversations amongst the other “early birds” like herself.  She took a moment to take in the relatively quiet morning sounds. She closed her eyes and the second she did another face appeared. A face that she often fought thinking about.

This one had soft brown skin. Jet black hair cut into a short bob. Full candy painted lips. A husky (yet sultry) voice that made every word sound like an invitation. Large full breasts, round hips, thick thighs. This was the lover that Cassie dreaded most of all. Simone. Beautiful, alluring Simone. Out of all her previous lovers, Cassie loved her the hardest. She was the reason Cassie avoided re-watching _Inopportune Affairs_ —she should have never written a semi-autobiographical film! She couldn’t watch thinly veiled scenes of their failed romance. She couldn’t bear the pain creeping into her chest or the longing that radiated throughout her body.

She and Simone had dated on and off for nearly three years. They’d fuck, then fight, then make up. Every time they ended Cassie swore it would be the last but then Simone would call her. Then the cycle would repeat. It took her forever to break free of that woman. (If Cassie was being honest, she’d admit that part of her still belonged with Simone and, perhaps, always would.)

What if Tom was her new Simone? What if she spends the rest of her life pathetically playing his lover, enemy, or friend? What if she never found true love or happiness? God, she needed a drink! _No! No drinking!_ A cold shower would help instead to shock away the last remnants of her ex.

Cassie quickly showered and brushed her teeth before draping a towel across her naked body and heading back towards the bedroom. Tom was still fast asleep. One arm rested on his eyes; the other sat on his stomach. A simple white sheet covered a leg but did nothing to hide his full erection. He muttered her name and rocked his hips; his hand fell from his stomach and stopped inches above his cock. Cassie shook her head and swiftly patted herself dry. No doubt he’d be up in a few minutes ready to go for a morning round. Her body would say “yes” and hop on him faster than the speed of light. But the tension in her chest—that pounding ache—warned her to get dressed fast. _Get dressed and get out._

She would text him an apology once she was back in the safety of Charlie’s apartment and make up some tired excuse about having to fulfill some vague errand. But even that would only work for so long. He’d send her a text later in the evening—something so dirty her panties would be soaked—and she’d be right back here. Hating herself.

She pushed the thought away. She would have to deal with that when the time came. For now, she had to find her clothes. She dug through the pile of clothes at her feet for her bra then rolled her eyes when she remembered she didn’t wear one. She picked up and put on the light blue tank she wore the night before. Then she pulled out a fresh pair of panties from her purse and slipped into them; followed by her skirt. Cassie sat on the bed carefully—she didn’t want to rouse Tom—and began putting on her shoes. Before she could fully get one on her cell buzzed loudly on the side table next to her.

“Shh,” she said aloud as if the object could hear her before hitting the “ignore” button. It was Charlie. Dear, patient Charlie. She could _never_ tell him about her and Tom. He would tear her a new asshole. He would no doubt berate her like an errant child. Or worse finally wash his hands clean of her and her drama. _Can you blame him? You just ran back to where you hurt! Who does that?_

The buzzing of her phone pulled her from her negative thoughts. It was a text from her new agent Ashley Mirren. She sighed a breath of relief and hoped for good news. “Meeting moved up to 11,” it read. “Don’t be late, kid.” _Him and that goddamn nickname!_ She texted him back then glanced at the time on her cell. It was a little after six-thirty. That was more than enough time to drive back to Charlie’s, eat breakfast, and prepare for her meeting. She continued putting on her shoes then rose and began to pack up her clothes.

“You’re leaving without a goodbye kiss?” Tom’s voice startled her. She paused her movements like a thief who had just been caught red-handed. When she remembered she actually had nothing to be guilty of she continued packing.

“I have errands to take care of.”

He sat up on his elbows. “Errands that are too important for a quick kiss,” he asked with a pout.

She couldn’t help but to smile. Sometimes he was too adorable to resist. “Just one kiss. Nothing else.”

“Scouts honor.”

“You were never a scout,” she replied as she crawled toward him on the bed.

When she was within reach of him he pulled her into his arms causing her to let out a giggle. “I know.” He planted wet kisses her across her face.

She laughed some more before pushing him away. “Your breath smells like last night pussy.”

“Ehehe. Well,” he licked his lips, “let me put some early morning pussy on them to balance it out.” Before she knew it, he had laid her flat on her back and hiked up her skirt. He frowned when he saw her pink, bikini-cut panties. “These won’t do.”

Cassie giggled again as he began pulling at the bands of her underwear. She eagerly lifted a bit off the bed so that he could slide them off her waist. He pulled one leg out—her panties got caught on her shoe so he removed that as well; he left the underwear bunched around her other ankle. He licked his lips at the sight of her bare pussy, pulled her legs to her chest, and dived between her brown thighs.

His tongue danced across her clit, wiggled down and dipped inside her, before slowly coming back up to her clit. “Aah… Tom…” she moaned as he lapped at her. When he slipped a finger insider her wetness, her back instinctively arched in response. She grabbed a handful of his hair and pressed him harder against her.

He smile against her as his tongue and fingers moved faster now. She rocked against his mouth; his name fell from her lips like praises from a repentant saint. He could do this forever. Go to bed and wake up with her taste on his tongue and lips. Feeling her writhe beneath him. Hearing her appreciative pants. That soft giggle that sometimes escapes when his beard brushes against her quivering thighs. He wanted nothing more than make love to her until his last breath.

Meanwhile, Cassie was lost to the ecstasy. Her earlier turmoil had been temporary silenced by the pleasure Tom was eliciting. He withdrew his fingers from within her and pinned her hands to her side. He climb up her and flicked his tongue across her lips, silently requesting access. She opened her mouth and immediately moaned at the flavor of her pussy on his tongue. Tom reached under her back and easily flipped their positions. He yanked a corner of her top down her shoulder until her perky brown tit was free. He pulled her closer and encircled his tongue around her nipple. He gently bit down causing her to yelp and rock her wet folds against his cock. He continued to suck on her nipple as she reached beneath her and guided him to her entrance.

Their mouths dropped open as she slowly lowered on his length. “Fuck,” Tom whispered at the feeling of his cock being enveloped by her wet warmth. He licked up her neck and kissed her chin as she began to bounce on him. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he thrust up into her. He continued kissing across her jaw and neck as he started to find a steady rhythm. Cassie panted his name into his ear. She closed her eyes and gave in to the feeling of his wet hungry mouth ghosting across her skin and his thick cock stroking into her.

This was the simple life. The easy life. There were no complications when their bodies meet like this. No awkwardness. No unspoken words. No fears. Just two lovers moving in tandem to that shared little death.

Still… A worried mind cannot find peace even in the most comfortable of places.

Even though it was Tom buried deep inside her, his hands squeezing her round cheeks, his mouth on her nipple, her mind had strayed and brought up images of Jamir, Greg, and Simone. Cassie tried to push them away but they wouldn’t budge. The images danced before her like a ballet of repeated failures. Jamir cruelly dismissing her when she said she wanted to wait to have sex again. Finding Greg’s wedding announcement weeks after they broke up. Simone’s non-stop pressuring and nitpicking. Soon it all became too much for her and Cassie found herself crying openly.

When Tom heard it he promptly ceased his movements. “What’s the matter, baby,” he asked as he gently grabbed her chin and turned her face to his. “What’s wrong? Am I hurting you?” She was still too overcome with her weeping to answer properly so she shook her head no in reply. “Then what’s the matter?” Again his question went unanswered. He laid her on the bed, pulled out of her then laid next to her. He wrapped her in his arms, curled her into his chest, and gently shushed her.

It took her another couple of minutes to calm down. “There, there,” Tom cooed as he petted her head. “You’re better now, yes?” She again shook her head no. “You want to tell me what’s bothering you?”

“I… I,” her voice was nearly inaudible, “I can’t do this.”

I took a second for the words to register in Tom’s ear but when they did his heart began to race. He leaned back so that he could look into her eyes, “Wh-what did you just say?”

Cassie sniffled and rubbed her nose before looking away. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to repeat it if she had to gaze into his eyes. “I can’t do this.”

“What,” Tom asked again in disbelief. He felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room and he was slowly dying. “Don’t say that. Please,” his voice waivered.

“Tom,” she maneuvered out of his grasp and sat up on the bed; she pulled her knees to her chest and rested her head on them. “I can’t keep making the same mistakes. That’s not how you learn.”

“No, Cas, I _was_ a mistake,” he corrected, “but not anymore. You forgave me, remember? I love you.”

She looked at him now. Water sat in the corners of his eyes, threatening to tear at any second. “And I love you,” she assured him. “But I-I…” She glanced down at the pink bunch around her right ankle and shook her head. “We’re back where we started.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“No!” She wiped away a freshly fallen tear. “No,” she repeated softer, “it isn’t. When we were just friends things were… simpler. But the moment we fucked… _we_ were fucked.”

He frowned his brow in confusion. “What does that mean, Cas?”

“We… we tried to start a relationship on sex and it ended badly. We ruined the good thing that we had when we were friends. And now we’re back at it again and we’re only gonna be in the same place four months from now.”

“No, Cas. Don’t say that. We’re different now.”

“Are we? Tell me what’s changed in the last eight months? Hmm? Because from what I can see… ain’t much.”

“ _I’ve_ changed. I love you, Cas. Doesn’t that count for something?”

She desperately wanted to give him the assurance that he longed to hear but she couldn’t. “No,” she replied. The word visibly wounded him. He opened his mouth to speak but only managed a weak gasp. The tears in his eyes finally fell down his cheek. “I’m sorry.” Cassie cupped his face in her hand and gently wiped his tears away with her thumbs. “I’m not trying to hurt you, I swear, but…” Her eyes drifted as she tried to find the right words. “But I’m so… terrified,” she confessed.

“Of me,” Tom asked.

She nodded. “I’m terrified that you’ll hurt me again. That all these ‘I love you’s are just… sweet nothings. That I’m just filler for your lonely nights.”

“No, no,” he pulled her hands from his face and kissed her palms and wrists. “You mean so much to me. I’m done with the-the-the running and the denying and all that coward shit. Cassie, it’s you. I love you.” He placed both hands on the side of her head and stared intently into her eyes. “I. Love. You,” he repeated in full sincerity. “Do you know I have never said those words to a woman besides my mother and sisters?”

A tear rolled down her cheek, then another. Soon she was full on crying again. “I just,” she said with shaky voice, “I don’t wanna get hurt again.”

“And you won’t.”

“But how do I know that? Can you guarantee me that you won’t get scared and run away again? Can you guarantee you won’t break my heart? Huh? I refuse to be another person’s yo-yo, Thomas.”

He gently kissed her lips, completely unbothered by the salty taste of her tears on them. Then he kissed her nose, both eyelids, and finally her forehead. “I can’t promise I’ll be a perfect man, Cas. I won’t lie to you like that.” He gazed into her eyes again. “But, baby, I promise that I will try to be the man you deserve. A man worthy of you. Please… just give me a chance.”

Her heart and head warred again. Logic told her to move on. Love told her to try again. She could only listen to one. “If,” she began, “if I do give you another chance… we gotta do things differently. We gotta start over.”

The words were like music to his ears. “Yeah. Whatever you say, Cas. How do we do that?”

“I loved being your friend. I loved the talks we had and laughing with you. I loved… I loved the simplicity of it all. I want that again.”

“You… you want to be just friends?”

“No,” she paused and licked her lips as she carefully weighed her words. “I want to be your friend _and_ your girlfriend. But I need to know that you’re truly here for _me._ I don’t wanna fuck you, Tom. I wanna _love_ you. Do you get what I’m saying?”

He gently nodded his head yes. “I-I think so.”

“We should be celibate. For… four months. The length of our first relationship. I want to get reacquainted with each other outside of,” she waved her hands across the bed, “this. Can you do that? Can you wait for me?”

He grasped her hand and gently kissed her knuckles. “Cas, I’ll do anything for you.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Tassie One Shots For Jay!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6573646) by [JazzyTee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzyTee/pseuds/JazzyTee)




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